


My Guardian Angel

by SamuraiPrincess



Category: Biker Mice From Mars
Genre: Child Abuse, Other, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 86,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6938587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamuraiPrincess/pseuds/SamuraiPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danielle "Danny" Aguirrez has dreamed of two things her whole life: grand adventures like in comics, and a loving family. When she meets the Biker Mice, her life-and theirs-changes completely, and all become entwined in a battle no one ever expected to face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Biker Mice from mars is copyright to New Entertainment and Marvel Industries. Believe me, if I did own the Biker Mice they’d be out on DVD for everyone to buy, and a new reboot would be out for everyone to enjoy.

However, Danielle “Danny” Aguirez, and any other character not recognized from the original series belong to me. No using without my permission.

Praise and criticism I will accept in reviews. However, only constructive criticism will be tolerated. And when I mean constructive criticism, I mean “I like where this is going, but I think you can improve the situation by….” and so on. Not criticism as in “This story sucks @$$ and you can’t write to save your life”.

Warning: contains foul language and violence. You have been warned.

 

Darkness blanketed the sky over the streets of Chicago. With an exception to the occasional streetlight that was still in tact and the few stars that twinkled above, the streets were a pitch black color. Only the desperate and foolish would dare to venture out into these streets at night. For night is the time when gangsters emerge and wreak havoc on all that is left of their city.  
However to three teenagers, the danger was of no concern to them. In fact, it was as if the dark and pothole laden streets were natural obstacles rather than dangers. A thrill for the most daring of adrenaline addicts. even existing as they rode across town on their skateboards. One jumped and skidded their board across the handrail of an outdoor stair ramp, the last two following suite. Whoops of excitement escaped their mouths as they rode across town, jumping over everything they came across, from trash cans to the potholes. One swerved his board to the right and then leaped into the air, twirling in a circular motion as he jumped over another pothole before finally skidding his skateboard to a halt in front of a closed video arcade store. He pulled off their red and blue helmet, his spiky brown hair stiff from its earlier confines. A slight breeze blew against his black sweatshirt, decorated with a large red skull with crossbones underneath in the center, and faded blue jeans. However, the boy immediately dismissed the wind as if it wasn’t there.  
“Now that’s how it’s done, amigos!” He pulled off his dark blue helmet, the lamp above him showing off the bleached spikes of his hair.  
“Hey, no fair Chucho! You cheated! We don’t got the boards to do stuff like that!”  
The teenager who complained pulled off his black helmet. When he did, his thick curly brown hair and black eyes came into better focus, which he used to glare at Chucho. His outfit was similar to his highlighted tip companion, yet had blue horizontal stripes across the sleeves instead of a red center crossbones skull. Chucho just rolled his eyes as his friend complained and made up excuses for his “victory” over his two friends.  
“Oh stuff it, Andre. Whine and fuss all you want, but all it does is prove you’re a wimp.”  
“Those’re fightin’ words, Ese!”  
“Bring it, Homey!” Chucho paused. “Yo, Danny? You alive up there?”  
The one called Danny paused from looking up at the night sky, and turned to face the other two skateboarding teens. This one blinked a couple times, then reached up and unclipped the strap of a dark red helmet and pulled it off. In doing so, long uneven black hair fell from on top and cascaded down to Danny’s waistline, just touching the dark red sweatshirt on the teen’s body.  
“Damn; my hair band broke,” Danny cursed out loud, reaching into one of the pockets of faded blue jeans and pulling out another hair band, then worked to tie the hair back in a long ponytail. “Maybe I should just shave the whole thing off. Save me a lot of hassle.”  
“No offense Danny, but the hair’s the only way to know you’re a girl”.  
“Shut it, Andre!” Danny yelled, hitting Andre in the shoulder as he laughed.  
“Yo Danny-why the space out earlier?” Chucho paused. “Don’t tell me you were dreamin’ about aliens abducting ya to take on adventures across the galaxy again?”  
“N-no I wasn’t!” Danny shouted defensively.  
As much as she tried to deny it, she felt a flush on her face to indicate her embarrassment. Whenever her friends were fighting, or at anytime the moment allowed her, she would look up at the sky and dream about life beyond her backyard, also known as the street behind her apartment. To be able to see the stars and planets, drifting from one place to another without a care in the world. No one to tell you where to go, what to do…no one to say your lack of worth. To spit in your face just for existing-to up and walk away because one day someone decided that what they wanted was more important than what the people who depended on him or her needed. To betray your trust. Or better yet-to be taken in by someone who would see someone worth taking a chance on.  
Was it so bad to dream that beyond the stars, there could be someone to love and care about you?  
“Danny, you’re the worst liar ever.” Chucho wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You know it ain’t gonna happen, right? Aliens just popping out of nowhere just to take you out of here, cruising the galaxies and shit like that. Even if there were such a thing, you really think aliens would come all the way to Earth and ask ya ‘Hey-wanna live with us and be our protégé?’ Shit like that don’t happen to rejects like us.”  
“Hate to say it Danny but Choochoo’s right,” Andre nodded. “Lookin’ to aliens for a family ain’t in the cards for ya, or any of us. You’re no Peter Quill, and there ain’t no alien space traders to sub for crappy social workers.”  
“I know that,” Danny gritted through her teeth, gripping her helmet tighter with her hands. _Doesn’t mean I can’t dream, right?_  
“Alright guys, enough”, Chucho said. “How about we put this all behind us and take our minds off it all with some shoot ‘em up games, eh? I call dibs on Terminator!”  
“Chucho, last time I checked, the arcade closed over an hour ago,” Andre argued.  
“Since when did that ever stop us?” Chucho asked, smirking while holding up a bobby pin. “I practically have the keys to the city.”  
“Five bucks says he gets an electric shock,” Danny whispered to Andre as Chucho pushed the bobby pin into the key hole. When she did not hear a “yelp”, she blinked. “Funny, usually that always happens.  
“Maybe I should’ve bet then,” Andre said. “Could’ve used the extra five bucks.”  
“Uh, guys? Something told us someone already beat us here.”  
After Chucho pushed the door open, the three stared in awe over what they saw. Video game machines were smashed apart, sparks were flying out of the consoles, pool and air hockey tables were overturned. Money changing machines were broken into and robbed of all it contained. A few coins remained and were scattered close by the broken machines. As the three teenagers stepped further into the arcade, they heard what sounded like the stuffing of items into a bag. Curious, Danny crept up the open door behind the prize booth, the glass case smashed to pieces with glass bits scattered everywhere and the cash register broken. She silently climbed over the remnants of what was once the glass display case. She stopped suddenly when she heard mumbling noises and what sounded like movement. She peered into the open door to locate the noise source. When she did, she saw five men dressed in black stuffing numerous sacks with surplus toys and money from inside a broken down safe. One had blonde hair with a black bandana around his forehead.  
Danny decided that it was time to leave. If she was caught, it could only be assumed what they would to do her and her guy friends. When she made a move to turn and leave, her shoe made a squeaking sound. She stopped suddenly, and winced at the noise and her mistake.  
Crap! She mentally cursed.  
That noise caused the noise of movement. She slowly turned her head. She knew that she was caught, but that not stop her from doing so. Danny knew in her head that she should be running for her life, but she couldn’t bring herself to move her legs or even scream. Perhaps it was part of her curious nature, or her defiant arrogance. Either way, her need for self-preservation did not kick in. When she turned over, she got a better look at the robbers. As she noted earlier, there were five. One of them was a blonde, with a bandana tied around his forehead. He did not look very tall; about five feet and ten inches tall. She could not tell anything else, because the room was not lit up. But from what she could tell, he was wearing a basic leather jacket with black jeans. Another man was black with thick dreadlocks. The third man was an Asian, with spiked hair bleached blonde. The fourth was a Hispanic man with a goatee, while the fifth was another Caucasian: shaved bald with a green Mohawk, and a small rattail on the back of his head. Just as the blonde was, the other four men appeared to have been dressed in leather jackets and black jeans.  
“Look at what we got here,” one of the gangsters smirked. “Can’t let anyone tell the cops we’ve been here, have we?”  
“So I guess there’s only one thing we can do,” another gangster smirked, pulling out a crowbar from behind.  
Suddenly gaining movement in her mind and body, Danny grabbed the nearest object she could find: one of the broken emptied cash registers. However, she found that the object was too heavy for her to lift up. Instead she grabbed the handle of the sliding compartment where the money was kept. She pulled out as fast she could and hurled it at the oncoming gangster with all of her strength. He instantly ducked, his face just narrowly missing the flying object’s path. The metal apparatus smashed onto the floor with bits of metal scattering everywhere. However, the scattering of metal debris caused the gangsters to scramble, giving Danny the distraction she needed to race out.  
“SCRAMBLE!” she shouted to her two guy friends. “GET OUTA HERE NOW!”  
Not needing an explanation, Ricky and Zack grabbed their skateboards and raced out of the arcade as fast as they could. Danny dropped her skateboard onto the pavement and jumped onto it once her four-wheeled device started to pick up speed, using her left foot to push the contraption faster as she struggled to set her helmet on her head. She turned her head back, and immediately regretted her decision. Four men, clad in black, jumped onto motorcycles and began to follow her. She looked around frantically as she skated, searching for both her guy friends and a way out of danger.  
“Andre! Chucho! Where the hell are you guys?!” Danny desperately screamed.  
“Go left!” she heard one of the boys shout. “We’ll meet up when we ditch ‘em all!”  
Quickly going left, Danny became face to face with a large gate. Hearing the motorcycles getting closer, the young girl quickly stuffed her skateboard into her backpack as far as it would go, then started to climb the gate. When her right foot stepped onto the wiring, she lost her footing and her leg slipped. Danny quickly grabbed onto the top of the gate to keep herself from falling, biting down on her lower lip to keep herself from screaming in pain. When she looked downwards, she noticed a thin yet long vertical rip in the front of her jeans. Blood covered the ripped cloth of the denim material and trickled down her leg and onto the concrete pavement. A small pool of blood formed on the pavement below her leg as Danny fought to climb up the rest of the entrance. Just as she was halfway over the gate, she turned her head. She noticed that the gangsters had turned the corner and were on her tail. Her eyes widened when she saw that. She quickly jumped over the fence and pulled her skateboard out of her backpack. As Danny board landed on the pavement, her feet landed on the wooden material as she skated off to where she hoped to find Andre and Chucho. She briefly screamed when she heard the motorcyclists crash through the wire gate, trying to gain speed on her.  
“ANDRE! CHUCHO!” Danny frantically called out. When she got no answer, all she could do was skate faster. _Dammit, my leg are giving out! And I think I feel blood staining my board! GROSS! Danny struggled to keep her footing on the board. She felt pain shooting through her legs. She was running out of energy, and she knew it. I can’t out-skate these guys forever! I need to find some open room, and fast!_ Just then, she noticed a huge grassy area, with a field and stands in the center. Quiggley Field! Of course! Now I just need to distract these Cabezas de güevos while I head over there  
Stopping quickly, the teenage girl quickly grabbed her skateboard from the ground and used it to smack a row of trash cans on a nearby street corner. When the oval-shaped wood violently touched the silver cans, the cans fell and rolled onto the street with the contents inside littering the pavement.  
Satisfied with her work, the young girl quickly jumped onto her skateboard and used her left leg to cause the wheels underneath to start moving. Once she had enough speed going, she set her left leg back onto the board. She quickly jumped over a pothole on the street and started gliding down the street as a downward hill came where the pothole separated the level street and the hill. She smiled to herself when she heard the crashing of vehicles, followed by complaints of injuries and swearing.  
_Yes! That should buy me at least ten minutes!_ Danny thought to herself as she jumped a smaller pothole on the street. She looked up ahead and saw the entrance to the Quiggley Field stadium. _Sweet, sweet sanctuary! I’m almost there!_  
When Danny got to the Quiggley Field entrance, she discovered that the gates were locked. However, that meant nothing to the teenage girl. She grabbed her skateboard and quickly shoved it into her backpack once more. Her hands free, Danny then jumped up and grabbed onto the wiring for support. She quickly scrambled up the wired gate and jumped over to the other side. Once Danny was on the other side of the gate, she quickly ran to her left side to search for protection from her predators.

* * *

Nearby on Quiggley Field, the field lights were on and centered in the middle of the field. Three figures were enjoying themselves in a game of football in the lighted field. However, unlike with most people, these three were playing their game with motorcycles. A football flew in the air, spiraling as it slowly descended to the ground. One, with a small yet muscular build, revved up a red motorcycle and sped towards the football slowly descending to the ground. Suddenly, the red racing bike jumped up into the air. The light reflected the silver cylinder objects inside the green bandoleers across each side of his chest. Keeping one of his arms on the handlebars, the motorcyclist used his free hand to grab the descending football before making his bike summersault as he descended to the ground.  
“WOOHOO!!!” he shouted, removing his helmet allowing the lights on the playing field to shine on his face, basking in the glory. However, what the lights also made noticeable were his physical features. Instead of a human face, his face was shaped like a mouse, decked in white fur, red eyes, a metal mask covering half of his face and antennas popping out of his head. “Am I the best mammajamma in the universe or what?”  
“‘Or What’ is what we figure,” another biker joked, taking off his helmet as well. Like his fellow friend, his face was also shaped like that of a mouse with antennas on top of his head. However, unlike his fellow friend, his fur was a smoky gray color with one eye covered with an eyepatch, complemented by two gold hoop earrings on his left ear.  
“You’re just jealous that I caught a pass that you couldn’t,” the white-furred mouse remarked. “Face it, Modo. I’m the best of the best, and you just can’t handle it,” he concluded, sticking his tongue out at his taller friend.  
“Oh really,” Modo snorted in amusement. “Care to put your money where your mouth is, Vin?”  
“Vinnie, Modo, enough,” said another biker, named Throttle. Unlike his other companions, his face and body was decked in brown fur, with his eyes covered by black and green shades. He took off his helmet and let his long hair fall to his shoulders. He did not want a fight to break out again, even if was just a friendly brawl. “The last thing we need is a blood brawl between buds, right?”  
“Yeah, I guess so Throttle,” Vinnie half-heartily agreed. “But I’m still the best of the best!”  
“Right,” Throttle agreed, the sarcasm heavy in his voice. “You just keep fooling yourself into thinking that, Vincent.”  
Before Vinnie could open his mouth to remark, the sounds of breaking glass could be heard from across the field. The three Martian mice looked back to where they believed the sound had come from.  
“Break-in?” Modo wondered out loud.  
“No Shit, Sherlock,” Vinnie grumbled. “What else do ya think it could be?”  
“Guys, not now,” Throttle pleaded in a gruff demanding voice. “Let’s check it out.”

* * *

 

Danny picked herself off the cold dusty floor and quickly brushed all the pieces of glass off of her sweatshirt and jeans. Some pieces of glass cut through the exposed skin on the rips of her jeans, but she ignored the pain it caused her. She then crouched down and quickly crawled underneath the announcer’s desk, her palms pressing against more broken glass and other particles on the ground.  
When she finally got under the desk, she pulled the chair in front of her and placed her backpack between the chair and herself in hopes of being able to cover herself. She hugged her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around her legs, trying her hardest not to breathe loudly. Her mind was spinning and her heart was racing. Sweat was beading down her forehead and she felt liquid running down her legs. When the teenage girl looked down, she saw fluid running down the cuts of her exposed skin. She pulled some of her sweatshirt sleeve down, quickly wiped away the blood, and pressed her left forearm against the cuts to stop the bleeding. She pressed the digits of her right hand to her forehead in hopes of stopping the throbbing pain her head.  
_Gotta think, gotta think,_ Danny thought. _First, I have no idea where Chucho and Andre are. Second, I got gangsters on my tail because of what I saw. Finally, I can’t stay here for very long. Quiggley field ain’t exactly the best place to lay low. Those guys will find me here soon. What will I do when they do? They have clubs, crowbars and brass knuckles! All I got is my old switchblade and skateboard. Well…comic heroes faced scarier than this all the time. If they can then I-_  
All that Danny was thinking was suddenly lost in the flurry of footsteps, followed by the kicking of the announcer’s chair. Before Danny could catch herself, she let out a scream. One with dirty blonde hair instantly crouched down and saw her. His mouth gradually formed a snicker. He grabbed the back of her sweatshirt and dragged Danny out of her hiding spot and held her squirming figure still. She vainly struggled to free herself from her captor’s grasp, but it was of no use. The blonde grabbed the security strap around her chin and knocked it aside. Somehow, the action caused her other hair band to come undone, resulting in her long black hair cascading down from her head and down to her waist.  
“Gotcha!” One with a goatee gloated at Danny, but then blinked. “What the--”  
“Holy crap!” cried out one with bleached spiked hair. “He’s a tranny! Why is this country filled with freaks?!”  
“Dumbass! It’s not a tranny, just some runt girl wearing guy clothes.”  
“Aren’t they the same thing?”  
“NO THEY AIN’T MORON!”  
“Doesn’t make a difference,” a taller one with a ripped jacket, presumably the leader, said as his captive tried to release herself from his grasp. He just watched her struggle futilely in his grip, laughing. “Did you honestly think you would’ve been able to avoid us, hoe?”  
“Who wants to have the honor of being the first to pummel her?” another asked, pulling out his crowbar. “No volunteers? Okay then, how about I start?”  
“Wait!” the blonde demanded as he grabbed the crowbar from his partner’s hands. “I have a better idea.”  
“Better? What can be better than beating up someone?”  
As the group began to argue over the best method to take care of their witness, Danny used the opportunity to strike. Stomping on her captor’s foot, she used the spare moment she had to grab her switchblade from the kanga pocket of her sweatshirt and flipped open the blade. She then went into a fighting stance, blade pointed out.  
The gang laughed at her battle antics. They pulled out their crowbars and applied their brass knuckles. Some pounded their fists into open palms, others doing the same with their knuckles.  
Refusing to be intimidated, the young girl charged at them, pointing her knife at them. However, a thug with blonde hair grabbed her wrist before she could do any slashing. Danny quickly kicked the man in the lower regions, then proceeded to attack her other attackers. Unfortunately, Danny soon realized she was outnumbered and two other gangsters grabbed her by her arms, holding her in place and pressing their feet onto each of hers to keep her from escaping again.  
The blonde took a blade out of his left boot and pointed it directly at Danny’s chin, then quickly brought it down, making a large slit in the center of her sweatshirt. Her facial expression soon turned to that of frantic and scared animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming car once she realized what was about to happen.  
_Ohmygodohmygod!!! I’m gonna be raped!_ Danny thought frantically as she violently and futilely struggled to get out of their grasp. _No! This can’t be happening!  I wanna lose my cherry in an EPIC way-not like this!_  
“THIS is what’s better than pummeling little chicks, boys,” the blonde smirked. “Screwing them.”  
Before Danny could think of anything else, she felt the cold steel of the blade of the blonde’s dagger against her neck. She felt her heart racing as the blade was pressed closer to her skin. It was not pressed hard or deep enough to make a cut, but it was enough to make the thug’s point clear to her and his colleagues.  
“Now if you don’t want a deep smiley going across that pretty little neck of yours, I suggest you keep that trap of yours shut,” the blonde smugly said. “Where to start? Shall I sample the goods, or just skip down to the main course?”  
“What about us?” said a man with slick black hair with bleach streaks. “When do we get to have a go with the midget?”  
“Easy boys,” the blonde leader assured. “We have all night, and I would never consider not sharing with you guys.”  
“Pity. We’re not in a sharing mood.”  
The blonde thug stood up suddenly, surprised by that voice. He did not recognize who that deep baritone voice belonged to, and his fellow thugs did not know who spoke up either. Before the blonde could say anything, do anything, or even wonder who had just spoken, a hand grabbed him by his neck and lift him up high into the air. He emitted choking sounds as he struggled to breathe. His fellow companions stared up for a moment, and in a flurry of screaming and fear, they released Danny and quickly scrambled to get out as fast as they could. At least, that is what they attempted to do. Once they reached the window, the attackers stopped dead cold at two men dressed in leather, their faces covered in the most unusual bike helmets. Before they could utter a scream or any sort of sound, the two helmeted strangers brought their fists back and swung them forward, hitting two square in the center of their faces. One fell backwards to the ground while the other literally flew through the air, knocking down three others. The members that were still standing looked on at their three attackers in a mix of awe and fear. The tallest of the three, the one dressed in what looked to be a skin-tight gray shirt underneath a chest protector briefly spun him in the air as though her were a rag doll and forced the blonde to look him straight into the eye. Even though the man’s face was covered by his helmet and the purple visor over his face he was still a terrifying sight for the blonde.  
“Care to tell us what exactly you and your friends were doing?” the blonde’s captor asked, his right eye glowing underneath the purple visor.  
“We were, uhhthat is, we--”  
“I think I can fill that in for ya, little man,” said the helmeted biker donned in a leather vest said as he walked over and stood by his friend. “You were just about to leave, weren’t you?”  
“Uhhy-y-y-yeah! That’s it! We were just about to leave; that’s exactly what I was trying to s-OOMPH!”  
After he fell onto the ground, he looked up at the snarling face of the taller helmeted stranger. He quickly scrambled onto his feet and ran out the window, screaming slightly in fear. His friends quickly followed suit, pushing and shoving each other to get out of what they believed to be harm’s way as fast as they could.

* * *

 

As the roaring of motorcycles sounded off from far away along with footsteps of others trying to catch up to their comrades were sounded, the three helmeted bikers couldn’t help but laugh heartily.  
“Don’t be a stranger now!” shouted the stranger donned in green bandoleers and a maroon bandana, then laughed. “That was fun, huh Bros?”  
“‘Don’t be a stranger’? No offense, Vinnie, but that wasn’t one of your better lines yet.”  
“Yeah, wellaw hell, forget it,” Vinnie grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.  
“Did you get stumped?” the stranger blinked behind his helmet, then laughed. “The world really is coming to an end.”  
“You know, Throttle, you can be a really big pain in the tail sometimes.”  
“Trust me, Bro,” Throttle scoffed. “There is a big pain in the tail here, but it sure as hell isn’t me.”  
“Bros, I think we have other things to worry about right now,” Modo said. He went down on one knee and looked at the teenage girl before him. “You alright, Little Lady?”  
Modo looked down upon the young teenage girl before him, sitting on the cold concrete floor with her legs sticking out and her arms behind her pressed to the dirt-covered floorboards. Her body structure is thin and lean, much like the build of an average girl. He guessed by the size of her body, she was between the ages of twelve and sixteen. Her hair was long, black in color, the tips reaching down to her waistline. However, her hair was also choppy and uneven, looking like it had not been washed and trimmed in weeks. Along the hairline were small little bumps which the tall biker guessed was acne. Her face had two slightly narrow eyes in the color of a dark brown, which almost looked black. The teenager’s nose curved downwards until the tip made a slight inward arch downwards towards her thin, slightly pinkish lips. Her red sweatshirt was cut in the middle, revealing a black top underneath. Her dirty blue jeans were covered with holes, barely leaving any material on her legs, minus the black kneepads covering her knees. Her left hand was covered with a black fingerless glove, while her right hand was bare.  
She stared at him for a brief moment, looking dazed and confused. She brushed a few strands of her long black hair out of her face to get a better look at the strangers who saved her life. Quickly, she reached behind her and grabbed her fallen pocket knife. She pointed it at the taller stranger kneeling before her. Her wrist shook as she pointed it at the stranger, so she found herself having to hold the handle with both hands.  
“Don’t come any closer!” she shouted.  
Modo quickly stood up and backed away slightly, holding his hands out in self-defense. The one dubbed Throttle put his hand on the big man’s shoulder, patted it slightly, then knelt down in front of the raven haired girl.  
“Kid, we’re not gonna hurt you,” he assured her. _Must still be fired up by what happened earlier. Can’t really blame her._  
“Yeah sure, and I’m Peter Quill!” she scoffed. “You think I’m stupid or something?”  
  _More like mouthy_ , he thought to himself.  
“More like ‘ungrateful’,” Vinnie grunted. “Seriously-is this how you thank everyone who does something nice for ya?”  
“Bro, let me try again.” Modo went down on his knee again. “Kid, I promise you. We’re not here to hurt you. We just want to help you. Can you tell us your name and why you came here?”  
The young girl just sat there silent with her pocket knife still pointed at the stranger before her. Her mouth was sealed shut and her eyes glared at him. He gave an exasperated sigh.  
“This is gonna be one long and painful night.”  
“I guess I’ll get the ball rolling,” Throttle sighed. “I’m Throttle, the guy kneeling in front of you is my bro Modo, and the one behind me is my other bro--”  
“Vinnie Van Wham, the Velocity Atrocity and the best mammajammer this side of the asteroid belt!” the one dubbed Vinnie declared, hands on his hips with his chest puffed out proudly. “And the damn best good-looking one out there; can’t forget that.”  
“And has biggest mouth to go along with it,” Modo teased, standing up.  
“I’d have to agree with him on that,” Throttle smirked.  
“You’re just jealous that I’m the better looker and the better rider,” Vinnie argued.  
“Really? Who fell from his bike last week while popping a wheelie?” Throttle asked.  
“Who tripped yesterday?”  
“And wh--”  
“Aw shaddup!” Vinnie said, mock-glaring at his bros.  
Before more words could be spoken, the three turned and looked at the young girl. Instead of glaring at them and having her knife pointed at them like she was earlier, she was smiling. More than smiling; she was laughing at them. Knife dropped once again, she wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned over while laughing. One hand smacked the floor while she laughed.  
“You three are funny,” she managed to say between laughs. “S-Seriously, take your act on the road.”  
The three guys looked at each other for a moment, shrugged their shoulders, then smiled.  
“I’ll take that over the glare, right Bros?” Vinnie smiled.  
“Definitely,” Modo agreed, turning his attention back to the teenager before him. “So, do you have a name, Little Lady?”  
Danny bit her lip for a moment before she decided to say her name. Modo could tell that she was hesistant, and couldn’t blame her. On one hand, she hardly knew anything about him and his bros except their names. However he could tell she was also considering what had just happened. If they had not arrived, she would have been raped, beaten up, and possibly killed. If they had wanted to have their way with her, they would have done so already. Finally, they seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare. That should be a welcoming consideration for her. She took in a heavy breath, then looked at his face with her dark brown eyes.  
“D-Danielle. Danielle Aguirrez. Everyone calls me Danny.”  
“Danny,” Throttle repeated. “Cute name, for a cute girl,” he smiled, ruffling the hair on the top of her head.  
“Though I’m definitely the good looking one here,” Vinnie said smugly, leaning against the wall of the announcer’s box and admiring his fingernails.  
“Vincent, for once in your life get over yourself,” Throttle chided. He turned his attention back to Danielle and ignored another one of Vinnie’s glares. “Okay, Danny, what brings you to Quiggley Field?”  
“My friends and I saw those guys robbing an arcade, and they chased us around to make sure we wouldn’t rat them out to the cops. We split up to make it harder for them to catch us…guess they decided to go after me only ‘cause they thought I’d be easier to take down. I ran here thinkin’ I’d be safer.” She paused for a moment. “Definitely didn’t go the way I thought it would.”  
“The usual “Wrong Place and Wrong Time” shtick, eh? This happen to you a lot, Kiddo?”  
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Danny snorted. “Since we’re doing the whole ’20 Questions’ game here, I get to ask the next one.” She pointed at the three. “How do you hide those tails you got from everyone?”  
“WHAT???” the three asked in unison, obviously shocked.  
“Wh-what makes you think we have tails, Little Lady?” Modo asked, slightly nervous.  
“Because I saw something moving behind you, swishing back and forth like a cat’s tail, and--Dude, I just saw it again!” Danielle pointed at Vinnie.  
“Girl, you are so on dope!”  
“Am not!” Danny stood up and pushed the sleeves of her red sweatshirt. “See? No veins from pushin’ that stuff up! I’m clean! And I’m know I ain’t insane. You got a tail. All three of you. So know you ain’t from this world.”  
Modo looked at his bros. Throttle gave a weary sigh. He knew their secret had been discovered by the teenager before him. He was sure Vinnie knew too. He looked outside for a moment to see if anyone was outside, then proceeded to remove the strange helmet covering his face. Vinnie and Modo followed suite, the sound of what was apparently a pressurized hiss filling the announcer box. When their helmets were removed, Danielle blinked at what was before her. Her mouth hung open, her voice struggling to regain itself.  
“No…way. Giant humanoid mice. With red antennae, biker clothes, and bodies that would give a Kryptonian an inferiority complex,” she breathed softly, the only words her voice could force out. “Alien Mice…this. Is. So. AWESOME!”  
“…wait, what?” Throttle blinked behind his glasses.  
“Wait…you’re not terrified at seeing three alien mice-over six feet and pure muscle-right in front of you?” Modo blinked.  
“Are you KIDDING me? This is the BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!” Danny’s grin got wider and she jumped up and down with joy. “This is a dream come true! I knew we couldn’t be alone in this universe! I mean, we got nine planets in our solar system, and I know there’s a bunch more out there. Of COURSE we’d have aliens nearby! This…this is so awesome! Way, WAY more awesome than awesome! This is…oh wow! I can’t put it in words.”  
“Is it normal if I’d rather have her screaming like a horror movie victim?” Vinnie whispered to Throttle through his teeth.  
“Oh wow…all of my sci-fi fantasies are finally coming true! So, when do we leave?”  
“…leave? Leave to where? Your place to bring you home?” Modo scratched the top of his head.  
“No, to your spaceship! To cruise the galaxy in search of adventures and fighting intergalactic crime lords and stopping alien overlords hell bent on ruling whatever galaxy they want! Duh!” She paused for a moment. “Oh wait…we’d have to get my friends Chucho and Andre first. Then we can start our intergalactic adventures!”  
“Uhhh….” Throttle looked back at Modo and Vinnie, both of whom looked as confused as the tanned mouse. He adjusted his glasses then looked back at Danny. “Can you give us a few minutes, Kiddo?”  
“Okay sure. Take all the time you need. Not going anywhere.” Danny sat down on the announcer seat.  
Modo felt Throttle grab his and Vinnie’s wrists and pulled them outside of the announcer box. When he closed the door, he turned back to his two friends. Since the room was dark, he was able to take the glasses perched on his face off and slipped them into his pocket. This was a difficult situation, and Modo could sense that. After all, this particular circumstance was not something any of them had experience in dealing with. This wasn’t something they could blow up, shoot at, or punch to solve. No, this was a very delicate situation they were in. First they had a teenage girl who instead of being scared at seeing alien mice, got excited. While that was peculiar, in a way it was refreshing that she wasn’t scared. But then came her expecting that she was going to be recruited by them to help fight in an intergalactic war, or join them in random adventures. It was clear she was by no means a normal human teenager. Throttle cleared his throat, making Modo snap out of his thoughts and pay attention to the present once more.  
“Okay, before I say anything else, anyone have any idea what the hell she is talking about?”  
“Your guess is as good as mine, Bro,” Vinnie answered, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m gonna say too much pot. I mean, you can’t make this stuff up! I mean, what alien would drop by just to grab some random human to help them fight evil in whatever galaxy they’re on their way to? Seriously-where’d she get these crazy ideas from?”  
“Comic books,” Modo answered. He noticed Throttle and Vinnie looking at him. “Think about it Bros. A human being picked up by aliens, traveling from one galaxy to another, and fighting crime and evil through there? This sounds a lot like the plotline of a lot of Earther picture books we see kids and teens buy and read. She thinks this is her comic fantasy come to life.”  
“Or one of those campy earth cartoons where the heroes include humans in stuff they really shouldn’t be. Especially if they’re under eighteen and don’t know how to use a firearm.”  
“Well doesn’t this just suck,” Vinnie grumbled. “We meet another human female, and not only is she underage, but she’s a comic book geek. You know much this would drag down our macho rating if we let her stick around?”  
“And there’s the bigger issue Vincent,” Throttle frowned at his younger bro. “Being involved with us would put her life in danger.”  
“Well…I figured that part was obvious,” Vinnie smiled sheepishly.  
Throttle sighed irritably, and ran a hand through his hair. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. As much as it hurt to do, there was no other option. They would have to tell this girl that their saving her was not to recruit her for their team, and not indulge in her fantasy of intergalactic travel and heroics. Question was, who would be given the difficult task of crushing her dreams? It was obvious Vinnie should not be responsible for it with his notorious “foot-in-mouth” syndrome, and Modo knew he would give in because he couldn’t bring himself to hurt children, either physically or emotionally. That left the difficult task for Throttle to do, as usual for the leader. He slumped his shoulders, as if knowing it was expected of him.  
He turned around, grabbed the doorknob, and opened the door back into the announcer box. Danny was still sitting on the announcer’s seat, looking at all of the buttons on the box. She pressed one randomly, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. The power to the room was cut after the stadium closed. It seemed she knew that, but just wanted to press them to fight off boredom. Throttle cleared his throat to get her attention, but it seemed to have no effect. She continued pressing the buttons on the announcer box. Throttle walked up, grabbed the back of the seat, and turned her to their direction. She blinked, and looked up at him.  
“Oh, you’re back,” she said nonchalantly. “Yeah…it was too dark to read, so I decided to keep myself busy with the radio.”  
“Yeah, we noticed,” Throttle answered. “Listen…about you wanting to come with us…”  
“Yeah?” Danny stood up, her eyes lighting up and a large hopeful smile plastered on her face.  
“Well…” Throttle rubbed the back of his neck when she looked up at him. This was going to be harder than he thought. “The thing is-”  
“We’re stranded here!” Modo suddenly interjected.  
Everyone looked at Modo suddenly. He paused for a moment, then continued.  
“We crashed here a few years ago, and our spaceship is beyond repair. Engine is busted, life support is gone, pretty much everything is destroyed and Earth’s technology isn’t compatible with our own. So we have no way of getting back in space for the time being. So…I’m afraid space travel is not in the cards for anyone right now.”  
Throttle and Vinnie shot Modo a look. It wasn’t a complete lie; since their crash landing on Earth, their space ship has been ripped apart and used for different purposes-shields for their bikes, protective armor for the Last Chance Garage, and other intentions. It was obvious Modo also wanted to spare the young girl her feelings, and they couldn’t fault him for wanting to do that. So he was sure he’d be spared a lecture from them. He just hoped their look wouldn’t give away to Danny that he was making up excuses to spare her feelings from the truth. He looked back at her, and she had a pondering look on her face, as if to process all she was told. The big smile that was plastered on her face shrank, turning to a pout as her brown eyes dulled in disappointment. She sank back down onto the announcer seat.  
“Oh…” Danny said simply. “Yeah…can’t travel in a busted space ship. Makes sense I guess.”  
All of them breathed silent sighs of relief. So far it seemed that Danny believed Modo’s story about their irreparable space ship. Not that it wasn’t true, but it seemed she didn’t suspect there was more to it than that reason. That was all that mattered. Perhaps it would be easier to get back to where she lived after all.  
“Besides, if we took you with us on these space adventures, your folks would get really worried about you,” Throttle said, a hand on her shoulder.  
“Speaking of which Bros, we better bring this kid back home to her momma,” Modo added. “I’m sure she’s worried sick about her daughter.”  
“Seriously?” Danielle asked. “After what just happened earlier, you’re seriously gonna take me to a graveyard?”  
The Martian Mice blinked at each other, then stared down at Danielle with blank looks across and eyes wide. Several questions about the teenage girl before them went through their minds, but two in particular caught their attention: why would Danielle only assume that her mother was worried about her? And why would she comment about visiting her mother in a graveyard? Either she had the most unusual sense of humor known to anyone, or she did not have a mother. They hoped it was the former.  
“Why would say something like that, Danny-girl?” Throttle asked, incredulous. “That’s very disturbing.”  
“Maybe so, but it‘s the truth,” Danielle said plainly. “It’s was either that, or just come out and say she’s dead. At least my way sounded funny.”  
_The poor child,_ Modo thought sadly. No mother in her life. Must be hard for her, especially since she looks like she’s near the most crucial moments of her life.  
“No, that was just disturbing,” Vinnie argued. “Not to mention wrong.”  
“Whatever.”  
“Well, what about your father?” Throttle asked, wanting to get back on to the main topic at hand.  
“Dunno where he is, and I don’t give a damn.”  
“It’s not ladylike to swear, Little Lady,” Modo said.  
“Yeah, well, welcome the nineties Modo. Being a lady is overrated.”  
_Bad manners, and a bad mouth._ Modo looked down and clenched his left hand into a tight fist. _Whoever’s raising her ain’t doing a good job at all!_  
“I see whoever has custody of you has their hands full. With that mouth and morbid sense of humor of yours.” Throttle saw Danny stick her tongue out at him, but he ignored it. “What about an Uncle? Aunt? Grandfolks?”  
Danielle merely shook her head casually in a negative response. They looked back at each other, Modo obviously worried. Modo couldn’t stand the idea of a child going through his or her life without parents and or relatives of sorts. But what could they do if they found out that she had no living relatives at all, or even any sort of family she lived with? She could not stay with them; not only would her staying with them cramp their style, but it could endanger her life.  
“Well, what about siblings?” Vinnie asked her. “Do you live with a brother or sister?”  
“Yeah,” Danny answered, much to the relief of the Martian Mice. “I live with my older sister Raquelle and her boyfriend Keith.”  
“Perfect,” Throttle said, worry removed from his face. “We can give ya a ride back to your place.”  
“Nah. No need.” Danny picked up her skateboard. “I boarded here. I can b--”  
“You’re not going back by yourself at this time at night, Little Lady,” Modo interrupted gently yet firmly. “These streets are not safe, especially after dark. If we leave you to get home by yourself, you might run into that gang that tried to you-know-what to youand this time they may do what they wanted to before we got here. Probably do even worse.”  
“Besides, we got nothin’ better to do,” Vinnie shrugged.  
Danielle sighed and looked up at the three. They each had firm looks on their faces, and refused to be swayed. How could she convince them that she would be fine? She couldn’t. She also considered everything else. She knew they were right, and she was tired and weary.  
“You win,” Danny surrendered.  
“Squirt, we always do,” Vinnie said, a smirk on his face.  
“…what did you just call me?” One of Danny’s eyes twitched when Vinnie said “Squirt”.  
“Squirt.”  
“I’m NOT a squirt!” Danielle shouted, marching over to them. Even though they towered over her, she pushed aside that fact and stared up at them, glaring. “Five foot two ain’t short! I’m one of the tallest people in my school!”  
“Not by Martian standards, Squirt,” Vinnie laughed, resulting in the others laughing along with him.  
“STOP CALLING ME SQUIRT, HUELE TOTO!” Danielle shouted at Vinnie.  
“That’s it!” Vinnie was pissed. “I dunno what the hell you just said, but I know that was an insult!”  
Instead of cowering in fear like Vinnie had hoped she would, Danielle stuck out her pink-colored tongue at the white furred Martian mouse. Vinnie curled his hands into balls, squeezing them while his muscles flinched. His teeth grinded against each other as his red eyes narrowed at the young teenage girl before him. Vinnie then lunged at Danielle, diving at her. The young girl jumped just as his arms were about to grab her, causing Vinnie fall hard onto the ground. His body and face slid slightly on the ground below him, causing dirt to stick to his white furry chest and face. Danielle laughed at Vinnie, her index finger on her right arm pointed at him as her left arm curled around her waist as she doubled over. Vinnie slowly pushed himself off the ground, brushing the dirt off of his body an face. He then turned and started running after her. Danielle quickly ran between Throttle and Modo, Vinnie quickly behind her.  
“YOU GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE BRAT!”  
“YA GOTTA CATCH ME FIRST, HUELE TOTO!”  
Throttle and Modo watched Vinnie chase Danielle all around the announcer’s box, wincing at the sounds of tables being turned over, laughter from Danielle, and the shouting matches between Vinnie and the young girl. Throttle sighed irritably, pressing his un-gloved left hand to his face.  
“This is going to be a long night,” Throttle said.  
“I’ll go separate them,” Modo offered, slowly making his way towards Danny and Vinnie.

* * *

 

Three motorcycles came to a halt in front of a building. The riders looked around, taking in the sight of everything around them. The area which Danielle lived was seedy, to say the least. The streets of the neighborhood before them were covered with potholes, and graffiti decorated the walls and trash cans. The sounds of police sirens filled the night sky, along with the sounds of stray cats and dogs barking and hissing randomly. Random people sat on the curb of the streets, either smoking, drinking, vandalizing the ruined buildings, or other random stuff. One man stood in front of a dark green dumpster with bottles of empty beer next to him, the sounds of pouring liquid close by him.  
The three Martian Mice looked up at the apartment building Danielle told them she lived in. It was large and brick-colored, even though the night air hid the color considerably. However, graffiti covered the walls, the color on the bricks were dying out, and were becoming chipped. The front stairs of the apartment building were made of a cheap form of concrete, crumbled and cracked all over. In fact, it looked as if they would fall apart any second if even the slightest pressure was applied to it. The door in front was made of wood, slowly chipping apart with the front window on the door having a huge hole in the center. The window frames were black, the windows broken with the in tact pieces dirty and covered with a black substance.  
The three Martian Mice just stood where they were, their jaws dropped. Their shock was not of wonder, but of disgust and fear. They had suspected that Danielle lived in a run down neighborhood, but they never imagined how bad it was until they saw it with their own eyes. It made the area of Chicago they normally visited seem like it was the Gold Coast itself. The neighborhood which Danielle was living in seemed as though it was little better than a waste dump.  
“Ahhh, home sweet home,” Danny said wryly, climbing off Modo’s motorcycle and taking off the spare helmet that was loaned to her. “Thanks for the lift.”  
“Uhh….yeah; not a problem, Little Lady,” Modo smiled, even though his voice had an uneasy edge in it.  
“It’s what we heroes do, Squirt,” Vinnie smirked.  
“QUIT CALLING ME THAT!” she shouted irritably, glaring at Vinnie.  
The three Martian Mice only laughed at Danielle’s annoyance. Her fists continued to shake as they laughed at her. Throttle patted the top of the teenager’s head, and she stopped.  
“Okay Vincent I think Danny-girl went through enough tonight. Ease off.”  
Vinnie grumbled and crossed his well-sculpted arms across his equally sculpted chest.  
“You want us to bring you inside, Little Lady?” Modo asked.  
“I can manage, Modo.” Danny lightly hit the shoulder pad on Modo’s chest guard. “And don’t worry-I won’t tell Chucho, Andre, or anyone else about you three being aliens. Doubt anyone would believe me anyway-it would just be an excuse to be dragged off to the loony bin.”  
“You’re alrea-” Vinnie began, but Modo instantly reached over and covered Vinnie’s mouth with his flesh hand, his eye glowing red.  
“Bro, if you wanna keep your cojones where they are you’d better not finish that sentence.”  
Vinnie just sat where he was, daring not to make a move. Throttle looked back at Danny and chuckled sheepishly.  
“Just ignore Vincent, Danny-girl. His mouth makes noise and his brain just goes along for the ride.” The tan mouse ruffled her black hair. “Stay safe, kiddo. And remember one other important thing.”  
“What’s that?”  
“RIDE FREE!!!” the three said in unison, popping wheelies as they drove down the broken, crater-filled street in the night.  
Danielle watched the three Martian Mice drive off, coughing slightly from the clouds of smoke emitted from the exhaust pipes of their bikes. As she watched them leave, she couldn’t help but feel a smile form on her face.  
_Those three are the weirdest men…mice…mice-men, I have ever met in my life,_ she thought as she walked towards the back alley of the apartment complex. _But they seemed pretty cool, especially those wicked bikes! Damn I want one!_ Danny’s smile turned into a frown as she jumped up to grab the bottom railing of the fire escape. She slipped one foot onto the bottom and swung her leg around, then started climbing up the railing. _Why show me something awesome if I’m not meant to have it? A cool bike right out of Terminator movie, adventures in space…being with people that will protect ya, and maybe care for ya. Seriously-why have me meet three alien dudes and have them save me if I wasn’t meant for greener pastures? Or in this case, starry skies?_  
With that, she climbed into the window of where her room was. She looked down on the ground when she heard the crunching of glass and saw a scattered beer bottle that had rolled by underneath the window. Ignoring it, Danielle swung her other leg over and sat on the window sill.  
Everything’s the same as when I left it.  
The apartment room was a pigsty, to say the least. The wallpaper was slowly peeling off, revealing wooden walls that were slowly decaying. The wallpaper that was still in tact was fading in color, covered with slight traces of a clear liquid that was clearly not water. The carpet was ripped in several places, covered with red and other colored stains. Beer bottles, soda cans, paper, and other items littered the dirty and broken carpet. The back of the couch was torn apart to shreds and was barely standing, with pieces of foam and springs sticking out in the back. The coffee table was covered with wrappers, and more bottles and cans. What was more, it was also covered with empty cigarette boxes and small wrappers to who-knows-what. The chairs around the coffee table were old and looked rotten as well.  
Casually walking around as if nothing was wrong, Danielle grabbed a nearby sturdy chair. She set it next to the refrigerator.  
Damn I’m hungry. Danny climbed up onto an old chair and grabbed two containers of instant noodles from the cupboard next to the fridge. Good thing for ramen noodles. The one thing here that doesn’t have an expiration date, and where you don’t need to be a chef or have more than five minutes to make a meal.  
Danielle let the sink run for two minutes before clean water shot out from the faucets then filled the noodle cups with them. After setting them inside the microwave, she noticed a yellow note taped to the fridge. She pulled it off and looked it over as she opened the refrigerator to look for a drink.  
_Out clubbing. Will be back late. Dinner’s in the cupboards, Raquelle and Keith._ Danny rolled her eyes and crumbled the note in her hand. _Wow…what great parenting skills, she thought sarcastically._  
She pushed aside the dressing jars, a milk jug, and bottles of tequila and whiskey before grabbing a plastic bottle filled with red hot sauce. She pulled out a can of beer, and looked at it for a moment. She considered having it to complement her instant ramen dinner. With everything that happened only a few hours ago, alcohol would seem like just the thing to help distress and go to sleep. Running for one’s life, almost getting raped, and then meeting aliens: who could blame one for turning to booze for comfort? But she decided against it, and put it back in the fridge. It was the only one left, and she did not know when Raquelle and Keith would return from clubbing, or wherever they really were. And she did not want to risk Keith’s wrath if there was no beer left upon return.  
_Not worth risking another cigarette burn…or five._ With that, Danny settled on a half opened liter bottle of soda, then shut the fridge door. _Probably flat, but a drink’s a drink._  
The microwave beeped, and Danny opened the door. She grabbed her noodle cups and soda bottle, then took a seat on the sofa and kicked off her shoes. She rested her feet on the messy coffee table before her, squirting the hot sauce into her noodle cups. After turning the TV on, she dug her fork into one of the noodle cups, then brought the noodles up to her mouth and slurped them up. She grabbed the remote and flipped channels, but found none of them were playing anything interesting. Danny turned off the television, then pulled out one of her discarded comics and started flipping the pages.  
_It almost came true,_ Danny thought wistfully. _My dream of being “The Chosen One” almost came true…just like Peter “Star Lord” Quill. I wonder if those mice men would’ve taken me in if they knew I lived here, and how messed up my home life is? Maybe then I’d be out of this hell hole and get started on taking down alien sociopaths bent on adding Earth to their intergalactic empire or draining energy from a planet to feed oneself._ She took a swig of her soda, then flipped a comic page. _Maybe not like Quill, but more like Sam Witwicky. A way more useful Sam Witwicky. I wouldn’t need to be rescued every five minutes because I’d know what not to do when the bad guys are around. Who knows? Maybe I could join in the fight too…if they had the sense to train me with a gun. Or better yet: karate lessons. I could be like a mix between Mockingbird and Black Canary!_  
After she finished a noodle cup, the sudden opening of the apartment door caused Danny to jump up from her sudden comfortable position. She looked back and saw two people stumble into where the kitchen area connected to the door. One was a female with curly blonde hair that touched her shoulders and had her face plastered with make-up. The other a male with dark brown hair complete with gold-colored streaks going through it. Both ignored Danielle as the blonde kicked the door closed with her heel booted feet. The brunette pinned the blonde against the wall with his body and claimed her mouth with his own. His hands quickly peeled off her leather jacket and flung it across the room as his jean-covered knee rubbed against her short skirt and fishnet stockings.  
“Ah-hem,” Danielle cleared her throat.  
The two older adults stopped making out when Danny cleared her throat and turned their attention to her. She waved at them nonchalantly as they looked at her, and stood up from her place on the sofa. The blonde tugged down her short leather skirt as much as she could and smiled sheepishly at Danny.  
“Oh, sorry Hermana. Thought you’d be in bed by now. What about school?”  
“It’s Friday. There’s no school on the weekends, remember?” _Not like it ever mattered to ya anyway if I did go, or if I passed. Not with all the days your boyfriend would make me skip to be his Coke mule._ Danny tossed one of her empty noodle cups into the trash can by the kitchen counter. “How were the clubs?”  
“Loud. Smelly. Packed. Could barely breathe in there.” Pause. “Paradise.” Raquelle plopped herself onto the sofa and grabbed the second ramen noodle cup Danny cooked for herself. “How about you, Hermana? How was your day?”  
“It was…eventful.” That was all Danny could say. _I was chased by thugs who were robbing an arcade, cornered at Quiggley Field, almost gang raped, met alien mice and almost got to leave you and your punk ass boyfriend and live out my comic book fantasies. Like you’d believe me…or even care._  
“Eventful? Eventful’s good.” Raquelle slurped up some of the noodles. “And things will be eventful this weekend too. Wanna tell her, Baby?”  
“Was just about to, Babe.” Keith plopped down on the other side next to Danny. “We just got a big business offer from a powerful Chi-town business tycoon. Wants a big shipment of goods delivered this and next week. And he’s gonna pay quadruple what my boys usually get from the everyday crackheads.”  
“You know what that means, Hermana? Our ship has finally come in!” Raquelle hugged Danny. “We’ll finally be able to leave this place behind and live the life we’ve dreamed of for so long! Imagine-no more living in this dump of a neighborhood. No more splitting a one room to keep the cops off our trail. We’ll finally have it big. That big dream house we’ve been wishing for all those years. Our own rooms, big soft lush beds, designer clothes, lavish cuisine every night. Be the highlight of every party for all the bigwigs of Chicago. We’re almost there, Hermana.”  
_You’ve been saying that for years, Estupida. What makes you think it’s gonna happen now?_ “So I guess this means I’ll be working double this weekend huh? Tell each dealer where to go?”  
“Which means you should get ready for bed now, Punk.” Keith lightly pushed Danny off the sofa. “And this isn’t your usual crack run, Puta. This dealer…he wants something bigger delivered.”  
“Bigger?” Danny looked back. “Bigger how? Like AK-47s? Rocket launchers? Nuclear missiles?”  
“You know my boss’s motto: ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’. Just do what you always do: go where the directions say to go, avoid the cops, and make nice with the dealers.”  
“Si, Jefe.” Danny made her way to the back room, then paused to look back at Keith. “Hey Keith?”  
“What is it, Puta?”  
“Well…I was thinking. It’s looking like you’re finally raking in a lot of money from all this drug pushing, and this new deal you struck sounds like it’s gonna bring in millions. So, since money is coming in, and you’re not short of customers, maybe I can finally sign up for karate classes?”  
No sooner had Danielle asked Keith that question that he swung his right arm back and then forward, smacking her hard across the face. She shrieked in pain and wobbled to her right, grabbing the wall for support while her hand instinctively covered her face. When she removed her hand, she saw blood, and realized she was hit so hard her nose was bleeding. She slowly regained her balance and looked back at Keith. A frown was plastered on his face as he lowered the hand he used to slap her and he stormed up to her.  
“What have I told you about asking me for shit like that!?”  
“I…I just thought that-”  
“Well you thought wrong Puta!” Keith grabbed Danny hard by her ponytail and pulled her closer to him. “It’s bad enough you read those stupid picture books. Getting all these ideas about being a hero and traveling space and shit like that. And you’ve been asking for years to take these stupid ‘karate’ classes. You know what will happen if you do!? I’ll tell ya-cops will track you down, then find me! My ass will be thrown in jail and where will you and your sister be? Back on the streets, or back to those psychos you two called family! You want that, Puta!? You wanna go back to being your abuelos’s whipping girl and punching bag!?”  
“N-no…” Danny’s voice quivered as she spoke.  
“Piss me off again and it’ll happen!” Keith let go of Danny and pushed her back towards the back room. “Now get your ass in bed. And if you ever ask me for karate classes, or any shit like that again, I’ll knock your head in so hard you’ll be wearing a helmet for life and eating your meals through a straw!”  
Danielle stumbled as she was pushed, but eventually regained her balance as she made her way to the joint bedroom. She paused for a moment, then looked back. Keith had gone back to the sofa and sat next to Raquelle. Danny stood there, ignoring the blood dripping down her nose and chin. She looked at Raquelle blankly. She wanted her to do something. Say something. Anything. Give any sign that she recognized what that monster did to her. Rush to her, clean her face, hug her, ANYTHING to show her any sort of affection. Instead, Raquelle merely looked back at Danny with a sad, apologetic look on her face. Keith wrapped an arm around her, and pulled Raquelle into his arms. She looked back at Keith, then kissed the hand he used to slap Danny with.  
“When is that little Puta of yours gonna give up these karate and comic book obsessions? I mean seriously-the brat’s almost fifteen! Girls aren’t supposed to like this stuff-they’re supposed to like make up, cooking, cleaning and taking care of their man. Like you-you know how to please your man. You don’t talk back when I make you do something, or do this non-girly crap.”  
“I’m sure it’s just a phase. She’ll get over it soon, Baby. I promise.”  
Danny walked back to the room, wiping her bloody nose with her shirt sleeve. Sadly, this was routine for her. Whenever she would ask for anything, even for the smallest of favors, Keith would acknowledge her request with a threat, a hit, or in some cases both. Sometimes, if he was very angry and had it available, he would burn her with a cigarette. Even if she was just there and did not say or do anything, he would look for any reason to hurt her. His way of warning her and others what would happen if they were to cross him. As he was high up on the command chain of the underground drug smuggling ring, no one dared to challenge or question Keith in any decision he made. Unfortunately, Danielle would sometimes forget that-even if what she asked wasn’t a question in leadership, but for anything from food to karate lessons. And he was more than willing to remind her, no matter how often he had to reinforce those reminders on her flesh. She lost count of how many times he would beat her, slap her, deny her food, or any other form of torture to demonstrate his power. He also threatened her with rape from him or fellow colleagues, but never went through with it. Keith was too smart to do that: knew that cops would be all over him if they find out he had forced a minor into sexual favors for him and others.  
Ironically, Raquelle’s relationship with him was supposed to help them escape that life. Having lost both parents and no other relatives, Danielle and Raquelle were raised by their grandparents…both of whom regularly abused both girls until Raquelle took Danielle with her and ran away. After living on the streets for several months, Raquelle met Keith, and he offered to take them both in. She thought he would be their ticket to their own fairy tale ending: a Prince Charming for Raquelle, and a family for Danielle. Sadly, that did not end up being the case for either sister.  
She basically traded living with one demon for another.  
Danielle finished washing the blood off her face, then exited the bathroom dressed in a black shirt and red plaid bottoms. Opening the door that lead to a small closet, she laid down on a thin sheet and pulled a thin blanket over her legs. She huddled her legs to her waist in order to be able fit in the closet and laid her head on the sheet below her since pillows weren’t available.  
_I should have fought back,_ Danielle thought bitterly. _I should have hurt him the way he hurt me…the way he hurt me and Raquelle for years. I should have fought harder to make those mice men take me in and make me part of the group. Should have left when I had the chance. But where do I go? Can I go back to find them? I don’t even know them. What planet they’re from, why they came to Earth…or where they’re located? Maybe they live at Quiggley Field…oh hell with it. I’m tired, sore, and I hurt too much to think._  
With that last thought, Danielle closed her eyes and slowly let sleep consume her.

* * *

 

Further downtown in the heart of Chicago, a sign stood out in the middle of the city. The sign began with a large, uppercase letter ‘L’, the horizontal line underneath shaped like a fish. Next to the L was a smaller, upper case ‘P’. Underneath the fish was the name “Limburger” in a horizontal line, with the name “Plaza” following it underneath in a vertical line. The sign was held together with thick concrete supporters between the words “plaza” and the first three letters of “Limburger” in a triangular shape.  
Behind the Limburger Plaza sign, a particular skyscraper stood out in the middle of downtown. Unlike the other skyscrapers, this particular building had no cracks in it whatsoever. In fact, it appeared to have been in perfect solid condition, unlike the other buildings around it. The color was of a pale peach, now a much darker shade due to the night sky casting over the with blue colored glass windows held up with white window frames. On one side of the tower was a large letter ‘L’, with a fish completing the horizontal line making up the letter ‘L’. Next to the letter was a letter ‘P’.  
Inside the top floor of Limburger Plaza, a cylinder shaped glass tube stretched from one end of a large office cubicle to another, filled with water and various exotic fish swimming back and forth through their cylinder tank. On top of an aquamarine rug was a brown wooden desk, with an obese man with high black hair in a purple business suit sitting on his desk. On his desk was an electric fan, and a bowl of squirming brown worms. While the obese man was sitting on his desk chair, he looked onto his TV monitor with a calm expression on his thick lips, slightly darker than his own skin.  
“Yes, Lord Camembert. Nothing has gone wrong with Operation: Repentance. In fact, everything is preceding right on schedule,” he said in a thick British accent. “I will be able to guarantee you what you need by the end of this month.”  
“You had better, Limburger,” Camembert, a green-scaled, red-eyed, humanoid fish clad in a gold robe with purple sleeves, ordered. His eyes narrowed at Limburger. “My patience with you is beyond thin. This time…I expect results!”  
With that, the vid-com on Limburger’s desk shut off. Limburger breathed a heavy sigh of relief and plucked a few slimy brown worms from the bowl on his desk. He brought the tips of the worms to his large lips and sucked them into his mouth, one at a time. Afterwards, one of his white gloved hands opened a drawer and pulled out a small rectangular box covered with a gold-colored lid. His index finger flipped the button lock in the center to open the lid. When he did, he pulled out a long, fat cigar from the container and popped the tip into his mouth. He then pulled out a small silver box and flipped open the lid. When he did, he pressed the index finger of his other hand on the switch to release a small orange flame. He brought the flame up to the exposed end of his cigar, his other hand blocking air and other element as he lit up his cigar. After he closed his silver lighter, Limburger leaned back into his chair and deeply inhaled the rich taste of nicotine, tar, and other contents of his cigar into his system. He then wrapped his right hand around the cigar and removed it from his mouth. Almost instantly, a cloud of smoke escaped from his mouth.  
“Ahh, much better,” Limburger cooed to himself, sitting up. He then stared at his lit up cigar. Smoking was not a habit he had never considered taking up on. However, with the stress of trying to ship needed resources to Plutark, threatening demands from his superiors, and attacks from the Biker Mice constantly preventing from completing his assignments, his stress level had risen considerably. The rich taste of nicotine from cigars was all that could control the frequent bouts of stress that plagued his presence. “How I have lived without these miracle workers is a mystery in itself.”  
Limburger pushed himself up from his chair and looked out the window behind his desk, admiring the buildings that made up the city of Chicago. He tapped on the cigar lightly, letting the ashes fall to the carpet. He smiled to himself as he gazed over the city.  
“My fair Chicago,” he crooned to himself, bringing the cigar back to his lips. “For years I have tried to plunder all which you hold dear. Your soil, your water, your land…EVERYTHING you possess. However, because of your secret saviors, the Biker Mice, I have been less than successful. And have paid the price many a time with the destruction of my tower on a weekly basis,” Limburger grimaced. His lips then formed another smile. “However, that will all soon change. You will soon loose what you value more than your city. More than your own lives in fact. However…the precious loss will be so small you will not realize you have lost it until it is too late. And while you look for what you loose…the police will become too distracted to realize that little by little, their fair city will be gone.”  
With that, Limburger released another puff of nicotine-filled smoke in his office. With the smoke escaped a small chuckle. That chuckle soon turned into a deep, diabolical laugh. His laughter echoed throughout the walls of his office, deepening the bone-chilling effect it had. Once his laughter stopped, he smiled cruelly at the view of Chicago.  
“Soon, Chicago,” he crooned, bringing the cigar back to his lips. “Very, very soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

_~Apartment Complex, two weeks later~_

            Daylight had plastered itself over the Chicago skyline, telling the world that the night has passed and that it was time for a new day to begin. The sunlight slowly crept through the slight opening of an apartment room’s curtains.  However, the sunlight’s journey did not end there. After entering, the light crept its way through the broken beer bottles, empty beer cans, and discarded condom wrappers and cigarette boxes scattered all over the mixed dirt and blood colored carpet.  However, it did not stop there.  The light continued on until it came across a vein-like crack in a door.

            As the light spread across the small opening in the room behind the door, it reached out across Danielle’s face. She squinted her face slightly and slowly opened her eyes. She shut them quickly, the sudden impact of light affecting her eyelids.  Grunting, the young girl slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes. The morning was not a favorable time of the day for her, especially after being accustomed to the dark for a long period of time.  After standing up, she allowed her eyes to slowly adjust to the sudden burst of light in her room.

 _Morning already?_ Danielle moved her hand around the closet for the doorknob. _I only got to sleep an hour ago. At least it felt like an hour ago._ As she grabbed the doorknob and turned it, she noticed something peculiar: the knob wouldn’t budge.  It would turn slightly to the right, but no more.  She tried in the other direction, but the results were the same. _It won’t open. Crap, it won’t open! I’m stuck here!_ Danielle wriggled the doorknob furiously in each direction while pushing against the door.  Her attempts at escape were futile. She then backed up slightly and ran against the door, trying desperately to open the door. Over and over she rammed her body against the door trying to break out of her dark prison, only to find that the door would not budge.

“Let me out! LET ME OUT!” she screamed in a panicked voice, then started pounding on the door furiously. “LET ME OUT OF HERE!” _I need to get out of here! Oxygen’s almost gone. The room’s shrinking. The walls are coming closer and closer to me_ _¼_ _and I think there’s a huge spider there. Ohmygod; there IS a huge spider in there! And it’s alive and IT’S GROWING AND IT’S GONNA EAT ME!!!_ “LET ME OUT OF HERE! I’M GONNA DIE!” she almost screamed, tears starting to form in her eyes. “LET ME OUT OF HERE! I DON’T WANNA DIE! LET ME OUT!! PLEASE!!!”

            As Danielle pounded the door in order to break out of her closet prison, the door suddenly opened. Not prepared for the sudden action, Danielle fell from her standing position and landed on the ground.  Her face became implanted on the blood and dirt colored carpet. She pushed herself up from the floor until she prompted herself up on her elbows, her hair in a tangled mess all over her face.  The black haired teenager blew at a strand in front of her, only to have it covering her eyes once more.

“You okay, _Hermana_?”

Danny looked up, and saw Raquelle standing right above her, holding a mug in one hand and a lit cigarette in another. She was dressed in a thin spaghetti-strapped silk nightgown that barely covered her hips…and nothing else.  Danielle quickly looked down back at the floor, attempting to hide her tear-moist eyes and her pale face from seeing the clothing attire the blonde woman was in.

 _Dios, Raquel! Ever thought of wearing panties underneath your clothes?_ Danny thought bitterly, trying to block the horrific image from becoming permanently etched into her brain.  “Yeah, yeah I’m okay.  Minus the whole being locked in and almost suffocating bit.  You know I’m claustrophic!  I mean, I lost count how many times our abuel-”

“Must you always be so dramatic?” Raquelle dumped her cigarette into her mug and placed it on the desk next to the bed.  “You were never in danger of suffocating.  Keith wanted to have sex, and I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t see or hear us going at it.  So I closed the door.  This may surprise you but we don’t like a live audience when we do it.”

 _So you do have standards…or one at least._ “But did you have to close the door ALL the way?  Ya couldn’t have left it open at least a crack.  And you locked the damn door; I was stuck!” Danny stood up and stared at Raquelle.

“I didn’t!” Raquelle said defensively.  “The door jams sometimes.  Remember?”

“Oh…I forgot.  It does that.  A lot.”  _This whole apartment is going down the gutter…and us with it._

Danny adjusted her sleeping shirt and pajama bottoms to smooth out the wrinkles.  Raquelle sat on the edge of the bed and patted the mattress on her left side, asking Danny to come sit next to her.  She just stared back at her, an eyebrow raised and arms crossed against her chest.  If her sister and her boyfriend had sex the night before, then the “evidence” of their previous activities would be on the bed.  She did not want that evidence to get on her clothes…along with anything else that could have ended up on the bed.  Raquelle merely rolled her eyes.

“¿Oh, que deje de ser tan paranoicos, por favor? (Oh will you stop being so paranoid, please)” Raquelle crossed her arms across her ample chest.  “I took the sheets off earlier when Keith went to take a shower.  And I just want to talk.  That’s not a bad thing, last time I checked.”

            Danny eyed Raquelle questionably, then slowly made her way towards her blonde sister.  She sat next to her on the bed, albeit cautiously.  There was a long, awkward pause between the two sisters as they sat next to each other.  Danny idly kicked her legs while sitting on the bed, drumming her fingertips on the edge.  At that moment, the silence between the two was very uncomfortable.  Danny was not sure what to say to Raquelle, or what she wanted to say to her.  All she knew was that it was very uncomfortable to be with her at that moment.  She hoped something would happen to let her get out.  A phone call, a gun shot, a fight breaking out by their apartment. ANYTHING to distract her sister long enough so she could just leave.

If Raquelle was about how she needed to be more accommodating to avoid being on Keith’s hit list, she was in no mood to hear it.  It was a lecture Danielle was all too familiar with, along with the lecture on ignoring the previous scolding.  She was getting tired of it: stop acting boyish, don’t ask for favors he keeps refusing, don’t question his decisions, stop mouthing off, and so forth.  Just leave ‘well enough alone’.  She wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.  Not after everything that happened two weeks ago, and the scare she had that morning.

Instead, Raquelle did something she did not see coming at all.  She reached out and touched a strand of her black hair, then brushed it out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.  After that, she gently caressed her cheek with the back of her hand.  Danielle blinked, her eyes widening.  She couldn’t remember the last time Raquelle had touched her like that.  Or at all.  It was very soothing, comforting…a touch she usually only gave Keith in order to placate him or get him to focus on her.  There was a part of her that wanted to enjoy this soft touch, but another part of her wanted to bolt away.  She wasn’t sure if it was genuine comfort, or if she was building up to something.

“How’s your eye, _Hermana_?” she asked softly.  “I know Keith hit you pretty hard last night.  _Lo siento_.  He was out of line with what he did.  But you should’ve seen it coming.  You know how he feels about martial arts…and giving out money in general.”

            Yes.  It was the same thing again.  Feeling bold, Danielle had asked Keith again to consider letting her sign up for karate classes.  She tried to convince him it would be a good idea: knowing self-defense would make it easier for her to do her job at night and not get attacked by rival dealers.  But she couldn’t end it there: she also asked for an advance on her allowance.  After all, his drug dealing money was going steady, along with other side funds he was receiving so it shouldn’t have been a burden for him, right?  She was mistaken, and it was mistake that cost her greatly.  That seemed to irritate Keith more than anything, and he began a barrage of beat downs on her.  He didn’t just slap her-he used his fists and shoes to beat her as “punishment” for stepping out of line.  That lead her getting a swollen eye and a bloody nose, which she spent half the night nursing until she finally felt it was safe to go to sleep.

“It’s healing,” Danielle brought herself to say.

“That’s good.”  Raquelle gave Danny a hug.  “Believe me, Keith is a good person deep down.  He wouldn’t have taken us in if he wasn’t.  I know you think our lives are bad, but think about this.  We’re not living in the streets anymore.  We have food.  We have shelter.  And we don’t have to put up with our _abuelos_ -”

“Yeah, I get it.  This is heaven compared to before we got here.”  _How can you not realize you traded one hell for another? Are you that beaten down, or just in serious denial?_

“Exactly.” Raquelle paused for a moment.  “Once Keith’s business deal goes through, then everything will be better.  He can retire from this life, we’ll have that big house we’ve always talked about, and then we’ll be on our way to living the good life.  We’ll be able to rub elbows with Chicago’s elite, and then those connections will pay off more.  I’ll get noticed and become what I’ve always wanted to be: an actress.  And then you’ll be able to get your dreams to come true: becoming the first Chicana comic book writer and artist.  I promise, things will get better for us.  We just gotta hold on a little longer.  Until then, just be patient, and don’t question Keith’s actions, okay?  Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

            Danielle just looked down at the carpet, not sure what to say.  What could she say?  Raquelle did have a point, as much as she didn’t want to admit it.  Asking Keith for anything was pointless.  He had power over her and Raquelle until they could find a way out of there.  Raquelle was convinced that once money was no longer an issue he would be the Prince Charming she always talked about.  Danielle wasn’t stupid though.  This was a cycle that was all too familiar with her everywhere she went: things would get better in time, he’ll change when things are better, and other attempts to make light of all that was going on.  She had seen it happen so many times she had become numb to any promises of things getting better from everyone.  But she also knew it was pointless to convince Raquelle that Keith would never change.  She was so much in love and so in denial about all that was going on, that she would never be able to accept it.  In the end, she knew it was a battle she would never win.

“Alright,” Danny sighed.  “I won’t.”

“ _Gracias, Hermana_.” Raquelle hugged her.  “Remember: sisters through and through.  Now go wash up and get changed.  I gotta get started on breakfast.  You know how impatient Keith gets when he wants something, especially food.”

            With that, Raquel left the room and closed the bedroom door. Shortly after she did so, a chunk of drywall had fallen to the ground.  Danielle rolled her eyes at the timing of the incident, and then stared at the doorway once more.  She sighed irritably to herself.  The condition of the apartment was deteriorating from bad to worse nearly everyday.  It was only a matter of time before the place would come down in shambles and they would all be homeless.  Danielle just stared at the door once more.

 _I dunno whether to smack her upside the head for being in denial, or pity her for it._  Danielle went to her closet, grabbing a mass of clothes and entering the nearby bathroom that was jointed with the nearby sleeping room.

            The interior of the bathroom was little better than the bedroom. The dirt-covered wallpaper was peeling off the walls, revealing the drywall underneath.  The tiling around the bathtub area was chipping, with the remaining tiling nearby and other assorted items were scattered around the bathtub. If one looked inside the bathtub, they would see a dark brownish-red color lining the interior of the tub.  It was as if the tub had not been washed in over a month.

            Grimacing, Danielle closed the bathroom door and began to peel off her pajamas. Once she was discarded of her clothing, she quickly entered.  She stayed in the middle of the tub in order to avoid having her feet touch the outer lining of it. While Danny knew that the contents would not damage her body or cause her to become ill, it was something she would rather avoid altogether. After turning on the faucet, she waited for the water to turn from rusty red to clear, and began washing her hair and body.

 _I’m gonna go with pity._ _She’s been denying what’s been in our faces for so long that she believes her own lies,_ she thought while massaging the shampoo into her scalp.  _I wish I knew karate, so that he’d never be able to lay a hand on me, or her, ever again.  I’d be able to take down Keith and his building drug empire faster than he can blink.  If not that, I wish I at least knew where to find those alien mice.  Maybe they could save us…they would.  The white one…what was his name again?  Oh yeah, Vinnie!  He went on about how they were heroes…beating the shit out of Keith and taking down a building drug empire should be nothing for super muscled aliens like them.  They’d save us…they’d protect us.  I know the big one-Modo-would.  They’re heroes…that’s what they told me.  They wouldn’t have come to Earth if they weren’t heroes.  Maybe it was for the best they didn’t take me with them then and there.  As much as Raquelle’s doormat behavior pisses me off, I can’t leave her in the hands of a monster like Keith.  I’m not gonna let her be the Harley Quinn to his Joker._

            Of course, that was only part of the reason Danielle wanted to find those alien mice.  It wasn’t just to fulfill her heroic fantasies like in the comics she would read.  It was much more selfish than that.  She wanted to find them again because she felt things she never felt in a while.  Nothing romantic or sexual of course.  But…comforting feelings.  When she rode on the back of Modo’s motorcycle that night, she felt safe and secure for the first time in a very long time.  The way he would check back to make sure she was alright, squeezing her hand occasionally to provide reassurance, and trying to make small talk with her while riding back.  He was genuinely interested in learning more about her. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked her that.  Hell, she couldn’t remember the last time anyone was interested enough to learn her name!  It was weird.  She had only just met them, and they were a completely different species than her.  Yet she felt safer with them during those few hours than she had with anyone else throughout her entire life.  She wasn’t sure why.  Maybe it was them saving her, and taking a few minutes to learn about her even for just a few things.  And part of it could have been conditioning from comics, where alien and mutant relationships were the standard norm. 

            There was no denying it.  She had to see them again.  She couldn’t stand being Keith’s personal errand runner, scapegoat and punching bag any longer.  She was sure they’d be able to do something.  And after experiencing security and comfort for the first time in years, she couldn’t go on without having those again. 

 _Maybe I should try scoping out Quiggley Field again,_ Danielle thought as she rinsed off the shampoo and body soap.  _Maybe they live there, or nearby.  If anything, maybe I can find a clue where to find them._

            After drying off, Danielle grabbed a nearby black sports bra and began putting it on. As she did, she stared at her body in the mirror’s reflection.  She ran her hands down along near her collarbone, then along her chest.  Unlike with her sister, Danielle’s chest was smaller in size.  Much smaller.  It was almost impossible to notice any curve in her chest unless she had nothing on.  But her bust size was the least of her concerns at that moment.  Her gaze lowered to her stomach, spotted with circular bruises.  Some were a darker color than the others, the darker ones being more recent than the smaller bruises.  The one which caught her attention the most was the large arch-shaped bruise on the center of her stomach, from when Keith hit her with his shoe.

 _He really got me good here._   Danielle grabbed a bottle of Vaseline on top of the toilet and rubbed the gooey contents on the bruises.  _At least it wasn’t hard enough to break my ribs and-_

“Danielle! Are you done getting dressed?  It’s time to eat!” Raquel yelled.

“Alright, alright!” she yelled at the door. Danielle looked back at the mirror, staring at her reflection once more.  _Just hang in there a little longer…every dog has its day._

            Danielle grabbed a long sleeved black shirt with the Metallicrank logo and a pair of denim blue jeans with a large hole in the left kneecap. Unsure what to do about her hair, she just grabbed a red hair clip and gathered it all into a long ponytail. Grabbing a pair of clean socks and white sneakers, Danny left the bathroom and entered the make-shift kitchen.

            Danielle grabbed a nearby chair and sat herself at the kitchen table, across from a tall man with brunette hair decorated with blonde streaks. He looked up from where his brown eyes were glancing and looked directly at her. In one hand he held a lit-up cigarette, while in the other he held a corner of the newspaper. Danny stared back, her eyes locked onto his.  Her heart skipped a beat as she stared back at him, biting down on her lower lip.  She felt the beating of her heart increase and the palms of her hands forming sweat as she stared at him.

“About time you got out of there, _Puta_ ,” he insulted.  “I thought you were changing, not having a spa day.”

“Mornin’ to you too, Keith,” Danny said with a slight hint of sarcasm.  _Just gotta put up with him for a few more hours…then Raquelle and I will be free of this asshole forever._

            When Danielle reached across the table to grab the container of orange juice from the center, she unintentionally glanced over at Keith’s current appearance. His slightly tanned-colored skin was uncovered, revealing the clothes, or lack of, he was wearing. His well-developed chest stood out, as well as his small yet well-built arms. The small hairs scattered across his pectorals glowed slightly from the sunlight from the window across the room, along with the small hairs across his chin indicating that he was about to grow a beard in a few days. His blue jeans, ripped slightly in the left thigh area and both knee areas, was unbuttoned at the top and only half-way zipped to allow anyone who gazed down to see what was hidden underneath the zipper.

 _He has definitely not heard of underwear either_ , Danny thought as she grabbed the orange juice carton. She turned the carton to pour the contents into a plastic cup she grabbed, only for nothing to come out. “Seriously?  We’re out of OJ?”

“Just ran out, _Puta_ ,” Keith said after exhaling a cloud of smoke from his mouth upon removing the cigarette from his mouth.  Raquelle placed a plate filled with thick slabs of meat, eggs, and hash browns in front of him. “Looks delicious, Babe…food’s not bad either,” he smirked as he brought a forkful of hash browns to his mouth.

 _If we just ran out, why was the carton still on the damn table?_ Danny thought.  She drummed her fingers on the table for a few moments, then looked at Raquelle.  “Hey sis-where’s my breakfast?”

“Give me a minute, _por favor_ ,” Raquelle pleaded as she poured cereal into a bowl and then added milk, then placed a spoon inside and put it in front of Danielle.  “Sorry- we ran out of meat and eggs.  But you like Frosted Flakes, right?  So that’s not bad.”

 _Eh, food is food._   Danny shrugged her shoulders as she brought a spoonful of the cereal and milk combination to her mouth.  After chewing for a moment, her eyes widened and she loudly spat the chewed cereal back into her bowl and vigorously wiped her mouth with her shirt sleeve.  “Blagh!  Ugh!  It tastes like sugared pi-”

“Danielle!  Language!”  Raquelle pulled on her ponytail firmly.

“…it’s not a swear word.  And seriously-the milk tastes awful.  Like sour tapioca sprinkled with sugar.”  _I think I’d be better off eating kibble._

“Quit whining,” Keith ordered after swallowing his meat.  “You should be grateful that you’re being fed at all.”

            Before Danielle could say anything further, the phone rang. She quickly jumped out of her seat and ran to the phone before Raquel could move up from her own seat, grabbing it off its resting spot.

“Hello?” Danny asked, then suddenly smiled. “Chucho! Hi! What--” Danny sighed irritably. “I’ve been telling you for the past two weeks, I am alright! Nothing happened at Quiggley Field. Yeah. No. Yeah. Okay. We--"

“Hey, Punk! Off the phone!” Keith interrupted. “You got work to do!”

“I gotta go, Chucho,” Danny muttered. “Yeah; I’ll see you at school Monday. Later,” she said, and hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” Raquelle asked as she pulled a cigarette out of her box. “Oh, want one _Hermana_?”

“Chucho,” Danielle answered before as she sat back down.  She looked at the cigarette Raquelle was holding out for a moment, then took it from her and placed it in her jeans pocket.  “I’ll enjoy it on the road later.”

“Well, if we’re done here¼time to prove that you’re not a waste of food and air, Punk.” Keith pulled out several sheets of paper and envelopes, tossing them onto the table. “I need you to make these deliveries to these people on the list. Then I need you to grab these grocery items. Think you can handle it?”

“I have to visit Joe first!?” Danny complained after looking it over. “Ugh! He smells like he crawled out of someone’s ass!  And I swear he keeps trying to feel me up and-”

“Danielle, don’t make a scene _por favor_ ,” Raquel pleaded as she squeezed her shoulder. “Just go in and out, and tell him you can’t stay.”

“Alright,” Danny sighed. 

With that, Danielle dropped her spoon back into the cereal and rancid milk combination pushed herself away from the table.   After grabbing her backpack, sweatshirt and riding helmet, she proceeded to step out of the apartment.

_I’ll make this final run to Joe…then I’ll head to Quiggley Field and find where I can locate those mice men.  Just hold out for a few more hours, Danny.  You’ll be free then._

 

***

            Below a light gold-colored truck, Charley laid below the bottom of the truck raised on a lift, moving a wrench in her hand repeatedly downwards, moving her wrist in the process. To keep her auburn colored hair from getting in the way, she had it tied back in a messy bun. The material of her light blue work shirt crinkled with every move her arm made in moving the wrench to tighten the bolt to keep the oil from leaking from underneath.  Her spare hand set the flashlight down momentarily to wipe the sweat forming on her forehead.   Afterwards, she grabbed the flashlight again to resume her work.  She had one leg bent slightly, causing the denim material of her black jeans to wrinkle slightly.

 _Almost….there….done!_   Charley had removed the wrench from the tightened bolt, satisfied with her work.  _And that’s the last for the week._ She wiped the remaining sweat from her forehead.  _I’m gonna have to charge this guy overtime considering how much work went into this._

              Charley had dumped the wrench back into her toolbox when the familiar sound of motorcycles caught her ears.  What had followed closely were the engines were the loud sounds of drums, guitars, keyboards, and off-key singing. She smiled slightly to herself and rolled her eyes.  The loud music and bad singing could only mean one thing: her three best guy friends had just arrived.

 _Right on schedule_ , Charley thought to herself as she grabbed the front bumper of the truck and pushed herself out from underneath.  She then slowly sat up on the slide.  _I know those engine sounds and that eardrum destroying singing anywhere._

            As she grabbed a nearby rag and wiped the oil, grease and sweat from her hands and face, she heard the motorcycle engine sounds gradually become louder, along with the loud blaring of heavy metal music. Soon three bikers entered the garage, with the heavy metal music so loud it could make anyone go deaf. One biker, dressed in a maroon bandana, green bandoleers, rhinestone studded blue jeans and black boots, jumped off a cherry red racing bike and turned down the volume of the radio of his motorcycle to barely a whisper.  The other two bikers followed suit and climbed off their motorcycles.

“Your day can start now, Charley-girl. Vinnie Van Wham has arrived to grace your morning and sweep ya off your feet!” the biker exclaimed, pulling his oddly shaped helmet off his face.  This course of action revealed his mouse-shaped head, complete with white fur, a metal half mask, pinkish-red eyes and red antennas sticking out from the top of his head.

“You mean my migraine can sta-ahh!” Charley shrieked when Vinnie’s tail tossed her into the air, then laughed when Vinnie caught her in his arms and held her damsel-in-distress style. “Vinnie! Put me down!”

“Aww, I don’t wanna, Sweetheart,” Vinnie pouted.

            Charley laughed at Vinnie’s pout.  At that moment, he reminded her of a five year old who was told could not have cookies or ice cream for breakfast. She then reached behind him to lightly scratch the back of his ears, causing a large, sheepish smile to form on his face.  Even though Vinnie was the most annoying and arrogant of the three Biker Mice, he still had qualities that endeared her.  His goofy smile, his childish personality, his pathetic attempts to flirt and there were times, albeit rare, where his arrogant mannerisms would drop and she would get glimpses of a softer and more vulnerable side which she knew existed.  He tried to deny it, but she knew it was there.  It was those moments that made it easier for her to tolerate his antics, where with anyone else she would have given him the ultimate castration.

 _Times like these make it so much easier to put up with Vinnie’s childishness._ Charley mentally snorted.  _Now I just gotta get him to not be so impulsive and destructive….oh who am I kidding? This is VINNIE I’m talking about!_

 “Now ain’t this a cute thing to see first thing in the morning?” Throttle laughed as he pulled off his helmet.

“Maybe we should give those two some alone time?” Modo teased as he followed suit.

“Bad idea Bro-you know Vincent can’t be left unsupervised.”

“Oh yeah.  Good point.”  Modo paused.  “Leave him alone for too long and the next thing you know he levels half a building.”

“Or we find out we’re gonna be uncles.”

“You guys know I can hear you right?” Charley crossed her arms across her chest.

            Throttle and Modo paused, then looked back at Charley and smiled sheepishly at her.  She just rolled her eyes at the two Martian Mice and smiled back at them amusedly.  During their nearly four years on Earth, she had gotten used to their antics and joking around.  Even so, it was still fun to remind them when she was around when she was the center of their conversation.  Not that she would hold it against them for long.  She had come to accept that there was still a lot they needed to learn about Earth culture, which could not be done in just four years.  And while it went against her feminist ideology, she also knew that their brains were wired differently than women’s, and that could not be changed in a short amount of time.  But it was still fun to see them flustered and embarrassed now and again.  Especially Vinnie, who she knew was the target of their teasing.  She pried herself out of Vinnie’s arms as he stood where he was, frozen in embarrassment, a deep red blush streaked across his cheeks. 

“Sorry Charley-ma’am,” Modo apologized, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away.  “That was uncalled for.”

“Don’t overthink it, Modo.”  Charley smiled and gently scratched him behind the ear.  “Besides, you got Vinnie to shut up for a little while, so I’ll let it slide for now.”  She winked at him.

“I’m standing right here ya know!”

“And your point is, Bro?” Throttle smirked.

            Charley laughed softly as Vinnie continued to fume, shaking her head.  This had become part of her regular routine: everyone teasing each other and laughing at the other’s expense, as long as it was lighthearted and harmless teasing.  If there was one thing she could count on them to do that she enjoyed, it was making sure her life was never boring.  Though as much as she enjoyed their playing with each other, she recognized the signs of when the roughousing was about to begin.  Of course, roughhousing by Martian standards meant leveling half the building, or putting holes in the wall and breaking down shelves.  That’s a routine she would gladly see come to an end.  Her finances couldn’t handle another garage repair, even with business coming in.

“Okay enough you three.”  Charley stepped in between Throttle and Vinnie as it looked like the white mouse was about to jump on Throttle.  As much as she enjoyed their antics, she wanted to keep her garage from falling apart again.  “Believe it or not, I can’t have my garage collapse on me like Limburger’s tower does on him every other week.”

“Sorry, Charley-girl,” Throttle shrugged his shoulders and smiled sheepishly.  “What can I say?  Force of habit.”

“A habit I’m all too familiar with you three hairy lummoxes.”  Charley paused to look at Throttle. “Throttle, did your hair get longer or are my eyes playing tricks on me?”  
“Huh? Oh!” Throttle reached behind him to pull out the small tail of brown hair he had tied back. If he was to untie it, his hair would touch his shoulder blades. “Yeah.  It started growing recently, and I haven’t gotten around to cutting it.  So I just tied it back and…kind of forgot about it.  Think I should chop it off?”

“I wouldn’t.” Charley smiled.  “Not many guys can pull off long hair.  You are one of those blessed few.”

 “Yeah yeah yeah.  Throttle has a new hairstyle.  Good for him,” Vinnie interrupted.  “Now that we’ve gotten that out of our systems, what’s there to eat, Doll?”

            Charley paused, then turned around swiftly at and glared at Vinnie, clenched hands on her hips. Vinnie just stared at Charley with a puzzled look on his face. She noticed out of the back of her eye that Throttle pressed his hand to his face while Modo shook his head.  Charley disregarded the other two for that moment and continued to glare at Vinnie.    She may have been their friend, but that was no excuse for them to treat her as though she was their personal maid. 

“And just like that, you take what starts out to be a great morning and ruin it with your big mouth and blatant sexism.”

“Blata-what’re you talking about, Sweetheart?” 

“Nevermind,” Charley sighed.  She knew lecturing him about his insensitivity and sexism was a waste of time, and she didn’t want to ruin what was starting out as a good morning.  Besides, she could get back him later by forcing him to do dishes.  “You guys will have to wait a little while for breakfast. I haven’t had a chance to start cooking yet; been busy most mornings catching up with repairs. Believe it or not, some of us actually have to work for a living.”

“Uh, Charley-ma’am?  It’s almost noon.”

            Charley blinked, then turned to look at the clock on the wall.  Just as she did, the saw the hands on the clock: the big hand right on the number twelve and the small hand closely next to it.

No sooner had Charley inspected the time that she heard the loud rumbling of stomachs, then turned back to the three mice. Modo grinned apologetically at Charley, while Throttle rubbed the back of his neck and Vinnie smiled sheepishly.  She just laughed.

“So it is.  Time flies when you’re busy.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been working since ya got up, Sweetheart,” Vinnie teased.

“And without at least taking a break,” Throttle added, albeit with a more serious tone.

“Well…”

            Charley didn’t want to admit it outright, but she had started work almost as soon as she got dressed.  Since there were so many repairs to work on and she had no other employees, she had gotten started right away to get as many repairs done as possible.  However, there were more bikes and cars to take care that required so much individualized attention that she let herself get absorbed in the work to get through her workload.  There was so much to do, that she didn’t even bother starting a pot of coffee, let alone having anything to break her fast.  If it weren’t for the guys driving up, she never would have stopped, much less realize the time.  And the looks on the three mice’s faces confirmed it.

“Yeah, that’s what we thought.” Throttle adjusted his glasses.

“That’s very unhealthy, Charley-ma’am.”  Modo paused as Charley’s stomach growled, then laughed.  “And your body agrees.” 

“Nature’s way of saying ‘Feed Us!’, Sweetheart,” Vinnie said.

“Fine, you win,” Charley smiled and shook her head slightly, amused. “Let me grab my helmet and keys, and head to the Diner for brunch.”

            Charley walked behind the swinging door of the garage as the three mice cheered.  Normally she would want to avoid going out as it was more cost effective to eat at the garage.  But with all the work she had to complete she lost track of time, and she was too hungry and worn out to bother trying.  Besides, the longer the mice went without eating the more they would complain, and she was sure her stress levels would not be able to take it.  Especially when the complaining lead to personal property destruction, and neither her checking or savings account could handle another repair.  And it would be good to see Andy again and catch up on everything going on in each others’ lives.    

She opened one of the nearby jars on the kitchen counter and dug into it, pulling out her garage keys.  As she stuffed her keys into her pocket, she grabbed her black purse and helmet hanging on the wall nearby.  When she strapped the purse around her right shoulder, she heard voices.  Curious, she pressed her ear against the door to listen on the conversation.

“Maybe after lunch we can do a patrol at-” Modo began, but was almost immediately cut off.

“Bro, I’d stop before I’d start with that again,” Vinnie intervened.  “Or at least try to be subtle.”

“About what?” Modo asked, sounding confused.

“You know what we mean, Bro,” Throttle said.

“I do?” Modo asked again.

 _Well, obviously I don’t._ Charley thought to herself.  _And Vinnie’s lecturing Modo about subtlety?  Did I get sent into an alternate dimension in my sleep, or did Vinnie and Throttle switch personalities and I didn’t notice?_

“You suck at being sneaky,” Vinnie ribbed.  “We all know you want to head back to Cinco de Mayoville and check on the Comic Queen.”

“First of all, I’m pretty sure ‘Cinco de Mayoville’ is a really racist nickname for a neighborhood,” Modo lectured, a low growl in his voice.  “Second…what’s that term Earthers use to call out hypocrisy-oh yeah!  The pot’s calling the kettle black.”

            Charley bit her lower lip and covered her mouth to keep from laughing.  Her body shook as she struggled to keep from being heard.  How she managed to do so she didn’t know, especially with Vinnie stuttering in surprise.

“Third, what’s wrong with wanting to check out-”

“Modo, give it up,” Throttle interrupted.  “We weren’t born yesterday, ya know.  We all know you want to head out there to look for and check on Danny.”

“…am I that obvious?”

“Yes,” Throttle and Vinnie answered simultaneously.

“…You could’ve pretended to sugar coat it first to spare my feelings.”

“We thought you wanted an honest answer,” Vinnie defended.

            Charley knew the guys long enough that this was the moment a three-way wrestling match would break out.  If that was to happen between her three fuzzy friends, she knew the consequences: furniture overturned and broken, walls decorated with full body silhouettes of themselves, and a repair bill that she could ill afford to pay at this time.  She could barely afford to bring in the money to pay for the mortgage, free repairs and upgrades on the motorcycles, and keep everyone including herself fed.  It was a miracle she could even afford those!

 _Intervene in three…two…one…now._ “What’re you three talking about?” Charley asked as she re-entered the garage, her motorcycle helmet looped in her right arm.  _Just feign innocence._

The three Martian Mice looked at each other, then looked back at Charley with blank looks on their faces. Charley rolled her eyes, placed her helmet on over her head, and locked the front garage door. After the three cyber bikes backed out of the garage slightly, Charley jumped off momentarily to lock up the garage.

“Trust me, Charley-girl,” Throttle said, smiling reassuringly.  “You do not want to know.”

“You know I’m gonna figure it out eventually, right?” Charley smirked.

“We know you will, Charley ma’am,” Modo said.

“Less talking, more riding! You can’t keep this mammajamma starving here.  It’s a crime!” Vinnie cried out. Charley rolled her eyes.

 _Thinking with his stomach instead of his brain_ , Charley mused in her mind as the Biker Mice revved up their engines. _Well, it’s a huge step up from his di--_

Before Charley could finish her thought, the three motorbikes ignited once more and drove off.   Charley wrapped her arms tightly around Vinnie’s waist to keep herself from falling off onto the pavement.

***

            In downtown Chicago, several green leaves broke off of the branches of a nearby tree. As the leaves began to fall from the sky, a gentle breeze began to blow and caused them to dance in the wind. As the wind blew, the leaves danced in loops and spirals across the sky and gently landed on a torn up, cracked sidewalk. The leaves skidded across the sidewalk for a few moments, then came to a stop against a nearby crack.  The breeze blew against the tips of the foliage on the sidewalk. As the leaves brushed against the cracks, two wheels rode on the surface of the sidewalk and crushed the foliage underneath.

            Riding on Chicago’s sidewalks was the young black-haired girl on a black bicycle, laced with red flame designs around the frames. She leaned forward slightly to gain extra speed as she rode her bicycle on the sidewalks, ignoring the scenery of the ghetto neighborhood she rode by in. The broken sidewalks she rode on were littered with various tidbits, from broken glass bottles and cans to pieces of paper and cigarette butts to homeless people lying nearby the sidewalks or in the gutters. The houses and buildings she rode past were crumbling at the roofs, with the paint fading and peeling. The brick walls of the high school she attended were decorated with various graffiti script along with the basketball squares and poles, and the barbed gates was rusting.  Needless to say, it was a neighborhood that only the insane or poverty line people would live in.

 _My neighborhood sure has gone downhill,_ Danielle thought to herself as she took a sharp right turn on a nearby corner.

            Under usual circumstances she would travel by skateboard, but with so many places to visit and packages to deliver it was more convenient to go by bicycle.  As she brought her bike into a nearby alley, she skidded the two-wheeled contraption to a halt.  She set the brake on, then removed her helmet and set it around the left handlebar. After looping a spare cable around the tires a nearby storm drain, she followed by connecting the tube with a padlock and setting on and locking the u lock through the front tire and around the storm drain. Danielle then set the brake back up and left the alley and waited at the corner of the following street to cross. As she waited for the red light to turn green, her gaze shifted elsewhere.

Nearby the corner of the street stood a small, square-shaped building constructed of bricks, with silhouettes of people in defensive and offensive stances. In the front of the brick building were two sets of large glass windows for gazing inside. Above the entrance door was a sign with the words “Chicago Karate Center” labeled in bold yellow print. When Danielle gazed inside the windows of the martial arts studio, she saw many people, dressed in their white tunic-like shirts and pants, and different colored belts.  They all performed exotic kicking and throwing techniques that were strange and amazing to the young girl.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment.  When she did, she felt the slightly coarse white tunic and pants caress her skin and a white karate belt tie itself around her waist.  A surge of power surged through her bloodstream as she brought her leg up in a fierce kick, followed by two consecutive punches.  Beads of sweat were dripping down her forehead, but she did not care.  Two men, much larger than her with black belts around their waists, charged at her.  She grabbed one by his tunic and threw him over her shoulders as if he weighed no more than a paper bag.  The other tried to punch her, but she ducked and did a low sweeping kick, knocking him off his feet and onto his back.  The adrenaline rush.  The thrill of victory.  Nothing ever felt so good at that moment.

“HEY! MOVE IT, CHOLA!”

            Danielle blinked.  The feel of the coarse material of her karate uniform was once again replaced with the cotton material of her shirt and the denim of her jeans.  Instead of the karate dojo, she was now on the street once more, and the crossing light was green again.  A dream.  Just a fantasy, and nothing more.  She touched her stomach and felt the sting of her bruises to remind her where she was and what she was and was not.  She was no karate student.  She was just Danielle Aguirrez: a mixed reject, the family throwaway, and a means to an end that could be replaced on a whim.  She looked back at the dojo as she crossed, sighing sadly to herself.

 _Maybe that’s all it is: a fantasy.  Like adventures in space,_ Danielle thought to herself as she adjusted the straps of her backpack while crossing the street. _So why do I keep dreaming and hoping to be more than an outcast pushing drugs just to survive one more day? Maybe I’m as out of it as Raquelle is._

            Danielle walked onto the other side after crossing the street, and after making a left, made her way down the broken steps of a nearby concrete pit. When she reached the door, she quickly took the backpack off of her body and unzipped the smaller compartment in the front. She pulled out a blank envelope of the front pocket of her backpack, and after strapping it back to her back, she knocked on the door.

 _Don’t try to make small talk with him, Danny.  Just drop off the package and get the hell out_ , Danielle mentally told to herself.  _The sooner you do this, the sooner you can make a be-line to Quiggley Field and find those mice._

The door swung open, causing the girl to jump slightly. She shook the shock off slightly and looked up. What she saw before her caused her to drop her jaw slightly.

_Okay, that man is definitely NOT Joe._

            A tall Caucasian man with curly red hair stood at the door, dressed in a dark blue fitted shirt and black jeans, looked down at Danielle. His face had an annoyed look as he removed his cigarette from his mouth.

“Who’re you?” he asked gruffly, exhaling a large cloud of smoke from his mouth.

“I’m here to drop off a package to Joe,” she said matter-of-factly. “Keith Schelling sent me to bring him these letters ‘n stuff.”

“He’s not here,” he said in the same tone. “Too busy breaking in another wh--wait…you said you were delivering for Keith Schelling.  Ain’t he that wannabe druglord with the hot blonde with the huge boobs who’s always clinging onto his arm like a desperate groupie?”  
“Yeah, that’s the guy.  Why?”

“He told me he was sending someone to keep the cops off his trail.  Guess he figured a scrawny gutter rat girl would draw less attention than a boy.” He gave her a once-over, as it to see if she was worth anything else, then shrugged. “The boss was expecting ya.  Come on in.  He should be ready in a few.”

            When the young girl stepped inside, the tall man closed the door behind him as he entered behind her.  She adjusted the straps of her backpack around her shoulders.  The room was completely dark, minus three small, dimly lit pendant ceiling lamps hanging by thin chains.  Underneath the random ceiling lamps were several pool tables, lined with green fabric with random people filling each table in a game of pool.  Several more men, donned in leather and blue jeans, occupied a wooden bar, sitting on stools covered in red foam padding. The people huddled by the bar, drinking beer, vodka or whatever their fancy was, smoking cigarettes, and just general chatting amongst themselves.  Women in scantly clad outfits paraded around, serving bottles of alcoholic liquid to those playing at the pool tables and by the dart boards.

 _Not even noon and it’s already looking like a night in Vegas_. Danielle rolled her eyes and wandered to the bar, which came up to her chin. She looked up the bartender, who was a bald African American male donned in an olive green shirt and black apron.  “Heya, Barkeep! Can I get a drink?”  
“Ain’t you a bit young to be drinking alcohol?” Barkeep asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Yeah…as nice as a beer sounds right now, kinda hard to ride a bike and do shit if I can’t stay on it,” Danielle said as she jumped up to sit on one of the stools.  “I’ll be fine with a Coke.  Unless ya got Sarsaparilla?”

            The Barkeeper looked at Danielle then rolled his brown eyes.  Danielle simply shrugged and smiled innocently.

 “Sarsaparilla?  Does this look like a western saloon kid?”

“…you could’ve just said no,” Danielle frowned at the bartender.

“How about I tell you to get off my stool and let a patron who actually drinks use it?”

“Relax Barkeep,” the curly-haired white man said.  “She works for Schelling.  Just slip the kid a soda or something.”

            The one dubbed Barkeep sighed in defeat, and frowned at Danielle.  He grabbed a glass mug and filled it with a shovel of ice, then filled with a dark brown liquid, letting foam touch the top of the mug.  Barkeep then handed the drink to her.

“Here,” he grumbled.  “It’s called root beer.  It’s like sarsaparilla, but diluted.”   
”Thanks,” Danielle said.   She brought the glass to her lips, took a sip of the contents, then paused. “…not bad.”  She took another swig.

“Oh Joy.  A teenager likes root beer.  My business will go up and I can die a rich man.” Barkeep turned back to his liquor bottles to reorganize them.         

“Okay, Twerp.  Joe’s ready for ya.”

            Danielle quickly chugged the last of her root beer, wiped her mouth with her sleeves, then let out a large belch.  She knew that it wasn’t “ladylike” to burp, but she didn’t care at that moment, or at all.  They saw her as a gutter rat, so why not give them what they expect?  Besides, the men around her weren’t belching any softer than her, so she shouldn’t have to feel pressured to keep her gas to herself if they weren’t going to bother.  Danielle re-adjusted the straps of her backpack, and followed her taller and older guide into an open door next to the bar.  They walked down a dimly lit corridor, the walls dark red in color.  Her footsteps echoed throughout the hall as she followed her dark-skinned escort.  He stopped in front of the last door down the hall and knocked gently but firmly on it.

“What d’ya want?” a gruff voice answered from behind the closed door.

“Schelling’s twerp’s here, Joe,” the male answered.  “She brought your package.”

 _Seriously-is it an epidemic that people call me stuff that is NOT my name?_ Danielle thought bitterly.  _Squirt, twerp, gutter rat, chola…how hard it is to say “Danny” or “Danielle”?_

“Send her right in.”

“You know the usual drill,” the redheaded man said to Danielle. 

            With that, the curly red-headed male turned around and took his leave.  Danielle watched him leave, then turned her attention back to the door.  She took in a large gulp of air, then slowly opened the door.  She wanted to enjoy one last breath of fresh air before she stepped into Joe’s office-she knew once she stepped in, she would be overwhelmed with the stench of sex, sweat, and rancid body odor.  Once she entered the room, she quickly turned around and closed the door behind her.  She then looked back.

“I was wondering when you would show.”

            When Danielle turned around, she saw a rather large man, sitting on a desk.  The small ceiling light reflected off his head, bald minus some black hair around his ears.  His eyes were a dark brown color, with red bloodshots around the eyeballs.  His baggy white shirt did nothing to cover the large pot belly sticking out in his front.   He looked up at her, his eyes staring right into hers.  In fear, Danielle took two steps away from the man, her back pressed up against the door.

_Fuck; that man is scary!  Ugh; and he still smells like he just crapped all over himself!_

“You’re late,” the man said.

“I was waiting for you to be done with your new ‘employee’, Joe,” Danny simply said.  She reminded herself mentally to breathe through her mouth so she wouldn’t get sick from his stench.  She held up the package in her hand and placed it on the table. “A gift from Schelling.  So I’ll just be dropping it off and taking my--”

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Joe offered, pointing to a chair across from his desk.  “Have a chat?”  
“I shouldn’t,” Danny said. “I have to go see your other “employees” to let them know where to pick up what, and I also have other errands to run--”

“You can take a break,” Joe interrupted.  “It’s not like they’re expecting you anytime soon.”

            Feeling defeated, Danny slowly walked towards a brown chair on the other side of Joe’s desk.  If there was one client who she really despised, it was this one.  Not just because of his looks and smell.  She could get past that-she lived in a stinkhole after all.  It was his blatant disregard for boundaries that she hated.  He would always look for excuses to get close to her, touch her…did everything but try to jump her.  She knew he only avoided it because he wanted to avoid the extra danger of pimping out a teenager for sex, or being labeled a sex offender.  Joe was not someone to say no to-not only was he Keith’s boss, but he had influence over the other drug cartels stationed in the city.  If she stayed on his good side, then chances were he would hand the reigns over to Keith.  Not that she cared who was running it-she just wanted out.  But she knew if she made it clear, her chance of getting out was gone.  So she played along for now.  She grabbed the chair by its framing in the back and pulled it out.  She then sat herself down upon the seat, propping her feet on the edge of the table. 

“Okay, what’s up?”

“How’re Schelling and his new woman doing?”  
“Same old, same old.”  _Keep it short and vague…hopefully he’ll take the hint I’m not interested._  
“Same old, eh?  Sounds good.”  
“Yeah,” Danielle agreed, nodding.  _Let me go…let me go._

“What about money? How you doing with the green?”

“It’s tight, but we’re managing,” she answered.  She took the cigarette out her jeans pocket and idly played with it.   She twisted the stick back and forth to put out the flame.  _If by managing you mean living on scraps, then we’re managing_ , Danielle thought to herself.   _Doesn’t matter to me at all._

“Don’t let it be said I’m not a generous man to Schelling, one of my best dealers and former scouts,” Joe said kindly.  “I know he’s in line to want to take over for me.  I might be willing to offer him a position as my right hand man.  In exchange…how about I offer you some work here?”

“Work?” _Probably janitor work.  Oh well.  Spare cash is spare cash._ “Like what?  Mop floors, bus tables, stuff like that?”

“Who said anything about being a janitor?” Joe then slowly rose from his seat.  He then placed a hand on her frail shoulder. “I have a rising number of clientele who go for the small and petite.”  
 “FUCK OFF!” Danny shouted.  She suddenly rose from her seat and pushed his hand off her.  At this point she didn’t care if she signed her death warrant then and there.  Being someone’s punching bag and drug mule was one thing-she wasn’t going to let herself be someone’s personal plaything.  “No way in hell am I gonna be your personal little fuck toy like Jabba tried to do with Leia!  Yours or anyone else’s!  I’m out of here!”

            Danielle grabbed her backpack and turned her back.  As she tried to walk out, Joe grabbed her wrist his ham sized hand. She fought to escape his grasp, but he held on tight.  He may have been overweight, but he was still stronger than her with his large hands and robust gut.  He tightened his grip on her wrist and lifted her up.  She winced in pain.

“What’re you doing?” she demanded, trying to break free from his grasp. “Let go right now!”

“No one talks to me like that.   Especially a scrawny little shit like you.” He lifted her up slightly and further examined her. “Now you be quiet and take what I give ya, or I’m gonna smear your little head all over the wall.  Hmm…I wonder: are you still a cherry? I think I’ll find out for my--”

Danielle did not wait for Joe to finish.  She quickly raised her legs to his nether regions, kicking him hard.  The man fell down to his knees, his hands clutching his lower regions and grunting in pain. As he fell over, he released his grip on Danielle and she fell to the ground, but on her feet albeit crouched down.  When she landed, she raised her right leg and kicked him hard in the face, causing him to fall on his back, his large belly jiggling in the process.  She quickly grabbed the doorknob, slammed the door shut, and ran as fast as she could.

“GRAB HER!” Joe shouted in pain.

Several men charged from the entrance before Danielle could make her escape.  She ran as fast as she could towards them.  Just as one prepared to grab her, she lunged between his legs.  As she did so, she slid onto the ground the open entrance between the hallway and the lounge.  One random man grabbed her at the ankle and attempted to drag her back.  However, Danielle refused to be taken hostage.   She grabbed his wrist and swung forward, biting down hard on his wrist.  The man yelped in pain, causing him to drop the girl onto the ground.  She scrambled to her feet and raced to the door.  She opened the door and quickly slammed it shut, pressing her body to it. 

People slammed against the door, trying to break through. Danielle quickly grabbed the largest and nearest fallen pipe. The young girl slid it through between the door and the doorknob lever and stuck it to the floor. The banging that was heard against the door grew became and harder as people tried to break out.

_If that doesn’t hold them, I dunno what in hell will!_

Danielle quickly turned and ran up the steps and across the street as fast as she could, jumping over cars and ignoring the yelling and angry horn honks from people and their cars. When she reached her bicycle, she fumbled with the key to her u lock until it came undone, and quickly dialed the combo into her padlock and removed the cable from around the tires and storm drain. Hastily stuffing the contents into her backpack with little regard to zipping it up, Danielle quickly kicked up the brake to her bike and started running out of the alley and jumped on. After five minutes of pedaling, she remembered she forgot to put on her helmet. She grabbed the helmet from the handlebar and placed it on her head, buckling the straps together as she made a sharp left turn.

 _That was close. WAY too close for comfort,_ Danielle thought to herself. _Okay…no more.  No more.  It’s past noon, and Keith probably got word that I neutered his boss, and probably blew his chances to take over when he bites it.  I need to get to Quiggley Field and soon._

 Before she could think of another complaint to mutter in her brain, her stomach growled.  She paused.  She had not eaten since breakfast, and she hardly touched it due to the milk in her cereal being rancid.  She also rode for several hours on her bike and used a bit spurt of energy to escape a rape crisis.

  _Damn, I’m so hungry. Tired too. I need food. But…Quiggley Field._ The dilemma: nourish the body, or find the alien mice. _…it’s at least a fifteen mile commute from here.  I’m gonna need fuel if I’m gonna make it before the day’s out._

With that, Danielle saw a small burger place.  She walked her bike up to the parking way, and after locking up her bike, she entered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Biker Mice from mars is copyright to New Entertainment and Marvel Industries. Danielle “Danny” Aguirrez and any other character not known belong to me. No profit is being made from this story; it is merely for fun and for practice. Jennessa “Jet” Velocita is copyrighted to Tess LaCalme, who is being used with permission. Other than that...enjoy.

Outside by a 1950s-styled diner, the Biker Mice had pulled into the parking lot on the side. Throttle was the first to pull in. He brought his bike to a halt, and the others followed suit. It was a peaceful drive over to the diner. Not that he wouldn't have minded having a morning workout before brunch. By Martian standards, a workout would translate to beating up random thugs and blowing up their vehicles. Nothing worked up an appetite better than explosions and causing bodily harm. But it was more than just that. It felt eerily calm and tranquil for him. When it was this calm for this long, it meant Limburger was plotting something. Either that, or his plan was already under ways and figured out how to be more discreet so he and his Bros wouldn't find him, sabotage his plans, and blow up his tower…again. He was sure Modo, Vinnie and Charley felt the same, even though they didn't say anything about it. That was also puzzling-usually Vinnie would be the most anxious to get in a fight and burn off his pent up adrenaline, and be the most vocal about it. Or Vinnie was just getting better at controlling his impulses…as hard as that was to believe. But he would worry about that later-right now all that mattered was stopping his stomach from growling. A big pile of freshly cooked hot dogs and cold, frothy root beer would take care of that.

Just as he was the first to pull in, Throttle was also the first to push the door open. When he did, he noticed someone there. It wasn't Andy, but a young human adult woman. More accurately, a human adult woman with her back turned to them, tying two black strings around her waist. Even though he only saw her from behind, he was able to make out enough of her physical features to get a rough idea of her. She stood tall, but how tall he wasn't sure, and had a voluptuous figure. She also had black hair which was tied up in a messy bun, with a few strands falling out and touching her shoulder blades and curled right at the tips. She was also wearing a black shirt, which exposed olive-colored skin, and dark blue jeans which clung to robust hips and sturdy legs, touching the tips of her ankles. Completing her outfit was a pair of white sneakers, and dark blue accents on the heels.

He wasn't sure what to make of her. Did Andy sell the diner and she became the new owner? No, that couldn't be. He would've mentioned it to them, and there was never a "for sale" sign up. Perhaps she was a new employee? But Andy always worked alone. Or as far as he knew Andy always did. Or maybe she was a friend or romantic partner? Those seemed possible…even though she looked young enough to be Andy's daughter. Maybe she was his daughter, though Andy never mentioned anything about his family, or if he had one. And Andy didn't strike him as a "sugar daddy", or whatever name was given to men with younger girlfriends. Besides, women who went with senior aged men went for those who were CEOs of large businesses-not those who ran independent stores.

"Uhhh, excuse us miss?" Throttle cleared his throat. "Where's Andy Steinhower?"

The black haired woman turned around to face them. When she did, Throttle took notice of her dark blue eyes.

"Yeah, good day to you too," the waitress said sarcastically. Throttle noticed her voice was different from others he heard-hers had a thick accent. Not foreign, but she was definitely not from Chicago. He also noticed she noticed he briefly glanced at her breasts, as much as he tried to avoid it. She grabbed the chin of his helmet and moved it up towards her face. "Eyes are up here, Perv."

Throttle's eyes widened behind his glasses, and he nervously coughed into one of his hands and looked the other way sheepishly. It wasn't like he was intending to stare at them. They just stood out and his eyes wandered to them, as much as he tried to avoid doing so. He wasn't even sure how she knew he was staring; his glasses hid his eyes. How did women know these things were happening even when they're not seeing it happening? And as if that wasn't bad enough, he could feel Charley glaring at him for his actions, along with Modo frowning at him for his disrespect, however unintentional it was. To top it off, he heard Vinnie sniggering, struggling in vain not to laugh at his misfortune. He was obviously happy he wasn't on the receiving end of the new woman's wrath and enjoying someone who wasn't him being lectured and embarrassed.

Before more words could have been spoken from either party, a thin, elderly man with smoky blue eyes and a gray mustache opened the swinging door to the kitchen, dressed in a red shirt with blue jeans and a white apron around his waist. In one of his hands he was holding a spatula ideal for flipping hot dog wieners, while the other hand was empty.

"Jet, what is all-oh!" Andy smiled in relief. "Hello, everyone. I was expecting you four to arrive sometime today. The dogs are almost ready."

"Expected?" Jet blinked. "You mean these guys are your usual customers?"

"Not just my usual customers," Andy said, smiling. "Without these four, I wouldn't have my diner. They are the ones I have told you about." Andy turned his gaze to Charley and the three bikers around her. "Everyone, this is my new employee, Jennessa Velocita. Jet, these three are all my best customers. I'd like to you to meet Throttle, Vinnie, Modo and Charley," he named everyone respectively.

"Well, any friend of Andy's is a friend of mine." Jet's demeanor all of a sudden changed and instead of frowning at Throttle for unwarranted gazing to smiling. "Just call me 'Jet'. Most everyone does."

"How about I call you gorgeous and ask for your phone number instead?" Vinnie smirked, wiggling his eyebrows lewdly.

"One-I prefer Jet. Two-I don't think I'm your type," she answered, smiling politely. "I'm not inflatable."

Throttle and everyone else couldn't help but laugh as Vinnie's eyes widened and jaw dropped from Jet's comeback. Vinnie struggled to get his mouth to work to find a way to comeback her rejection, but he did not seem able to get his voice to form a coherent sentence. Throttle smiled as Vinnie struggled to come up with a comeback to the snarky new waitress. The status quo had returned, and all was right with his world once more. Now he had more ammo to use against Vinnie if his younger bro decided to try and tease him about his moment of hormonal weakness.

Before Vinnie could recover from Jet's verbal smack down and make a comeback, Modo took initiative and covered Vinnie's mouth with his gloved hand to stop him from making a further ass of himself. It seemed futile, but Throttle couldn't fault his bigger bro for at least trying.

"Don't pay attention to my bro Vinnie, Jennessa-ma'am," he said, using his spare hand to turn off the purple visor on his helmet. "His mouth says stuff but his brain doesn't realize what comes out until it's too late."

"Can we not talk about me like I'm NOT here?" Vinnie asked after he removed Modo's hand from his mouth.

"First of all, just call me Jet. No need to add 'ma'am' to my name. Not old enough for that yet," Jet smirked, lightly hitting the tall biker's left tricep. "By the way, interesting shirts your'ew wearing. It feels like...fur."

"Uhh...it's a custom design. All of ours are."

I hope she buys that and not suspect we're shirtless. I'm surprised no one in the city has caught on yet.

"That would explain why your six packs are poking right through. And I like the right sleeve on yours. It looks like it's metal. Very unique." Jet paused. "And don't worry about your bro. I have more than enough experience with men like your Bro...and worse. I know how to keep men like him in line, uhh...what was your name again?"

"It's Modo, Jet-ma-er, Jet," Modo said, blushing slightly underneath his visor. "And it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Aww you're so sweet, Modo," Jet complimented. "Polite and charming...why is it that men like you are so rare in this world?"

"Uhhh….." The blush that only lightly brushed Modo's cheeks now covered his whole face. He looked like he wanted to bolt right out of the diner, but couldn't move his legs. Or even move his mouth to come up with a good response to Jet's question. It was as if his whole mind and body had shut down, just like a deer or opossum caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

It took all of Throttle's strength to not double over laughing. He doubted Jet was flirting with him since she asked the question so seriously, and it was obvious from how she talked to him and Vinnie earlier that she wasn't looking for a relationship. But he still couldn't help but enjoy seeing Modo in this state. Put him in front of an army of armed thugs, and he could handle the situation without a second thought. He would even crack jokes about it. But if a woman talked to him for more than five minutes, he would lose the ability to speak or do the most simple of tasks.

"Don't strain that brain of yours, Bro. We need it fully operational," he joked, patting him on the shoulder, then turned his attention to the waitress. "I forgot to warn ya, ma'am-Modo is very shy."

"Bro, I can speak for myself," Modo argued.

"Yeah, and you demonstrated that so well a few seconds ago when she said hi to ya," Throttle teased, ignoring Modo's glare.

"I think I can forgive him for it," Jet smiled. "Besides, it's not like he was staring at my boobs."

Throttle frowned at Jet. It wasn't like he was staring at them on purpose, or did it again. Dammit, he learned his lesson! Why were women so sensitive about stuff like that?

"Okay, obviously it's time for me to diffuse what's going on here before it gets worse." Charley stepped in between Throttle and Jet. "First, let me apologize for my friends. Vinnie has eternal foot in mouth syndrome, and there's no cure for it. And I promise you Throttle's not a pervert; he just has moments where he's unaware of women's intuition." Throttle frowned at Charley for knocking him down in her attempt to defend him, but she continued on anyway. "But I promise you, they're some of the nicest and most considerate guys I've known my whole life, and that's saying a lot. Oh, I'm Charlene Davidson, owner of the Last Chance Garage not far off from town. Though feel free to just call me Charley."

"Well, great to meet ya Charley," Jet said. She looked back to the three bikers. "Okay, the big one's a sweetie so he gets a pass. And you two…I'll let today slide for now. Just don't make it a habit."

"I promise ya ma'am, you won't catch me looking at any part of ya below the eyes." Throttle paused. "I can't promise the same for Vincent."

"Hey!"

"-but we can promise to smack him upside the head if he does," he finished, and everyone but Vinnie laughed.

Jet then turned her attention to the elderly man with the red with the soda jerk hat on the top of his bald head. "Don't worry about the hot dogs, Andy. I'll set them up. You go ahead and catch up with your biker friends." Jet turned her attention back to the four, pulling the pen and notebook from the pocket of her apron. "Before I forget, what do you all want to drink?"

"Would four root beers be alright, Jet-ma'am?" Modo asked, smiling at the raven haired woman tenderly.

"Of course," Jet said. She lightly hit Modo's left arm after scribbling into her notebook. "Four root beers coming right up."

With that, Jet turned around and walked into the back, her hips swaying and her black curls bouncing lightly with every step. Modo continued to stand where he was and watch Jet leave. Throttle looked back at the new waitress, then back at Modo. If Jet knew Modo was staring at her derriere, she would have lectured him the same way she lectured him moments ago about staring at her breasts. Part of him wanted to call Jet back and tell her what he just saw to see if she would treat him differently than before. It might have been equivalent to a kid tattling on his older or younger sibling for sneaking cookies before dinner, but Throttle never was a fan of hypocrisy. Then again, it would be a perfect source of blackmail if he ever decided to lecture him about manners and common courtesy. Expose Modo or have leverage over him for the future? That was a good question. It didn't take him long to decide-he would hold onto it for now. if he exposed Modo right then, Jet would most likely question how he knew. He doubted she would let it slide that he stared at another part of her body just after she let him off with a warning for the breast stare earlier. Besides, he was sure it would come in handy later on.

"Bro, you stare any longer and you're gonna burn a hole right through her pants," Vinnie teased while nudging Modo's stomach with his elbow. "And I doubt setting a babe's ass on fire is a great way to land a date."

Of course it's not like he could control Vinnie's line of thinking. Or his mouth for that matter.

"Okay guys. Quit picking on Modo," Charley playfully lectured as she tugged on Vinnie's cheek. "You act like he's the only one to ever get a crush on anyone."

"Cr-Cr-Crush?" Modo almost choked on his tongue. "I-I don't even know Miss Jet!"

"Take my word for it Modo-it doesn't take years for one to start," Charley winked.

Modo looked away and rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh arm, the deep red blush still plastered throughout his face. Everyone couldn't help but laugh at Modo's blush and embarrassment. Throttle patted his larger bro on his shoulder then turned his attention back to Andy, who was mostly silent during the introductions.

"Hey Andy," Throttle said. "What's the deal with that Jennessa woman? I mean, since when do you need to hire a waitress to help ya run the diner?"

"Well," Andy began. "Why don't you all take a seat and I'll tell you?" Throttle and company took their respective seats at the booth, waiting for Andy to answer. "Now I know I may not act like it, but I'm an old man. There are certain things I just can't do on my own anymore. And as much as it pains me to admit it, that includes running a diner. It's just not a one person job."

"Andy, you know that-" Charley started to speak, but Andy held up his hand.

"It's alright, Miss Charley." Andy smiled. "I'm not so vain as to deny my age and what I can and can't do. Anyways, I was getting ready to lock up the diner one night a few weeks ago when Jenessa came by hoping to catch one quick meal before heading back to where she lived. It's a very long story, and there are some details I'm sure she left out but isn't ready to come out and talk about yet. To sum it up, she moved here from New York and was looking for work, but was having no such luck. So after some talking, I decided to take a chance and hire her."

"That was nice of you, Andy," Charley smiled.

"Anything to help out someone in need," Andy said. "Besides, it's a win-win: someone gets a job, and my aching bones get to rest once in a while." Andy chuckled. " Anyway, I'd better step into the back and help Jet bring the food in. It's a big pile for one person to carry." Andy leaned forward and whispered to his customers. "And don't worry. I didn't tell her about your 'secret'. That's your business alone and I respect that."

Having said that, Andy pushed himself off from leaning against the counter and walked into the kitchen to help his new waitress with the order. Throttle looked back at Modo, who still had remnants of a blush on his cheeks and Vinnie and Charley, the former massaging the cheek which Charley tugged on earlier with Charley teasing him over being a "big baby".

_Anything to help out someone in need._

Andy's statement hit very close to home, whether or not the elderly gentleman realized it. No doubt when Modo's brain finished processing all that happened earlier (and had a full stomach again) he would try to encourage everyone to go searching the neighborhoods again for Danielle. Throttle couldn't fault his larger bro for wanting to do so-it was on his mind too. But Throttle also knew her needs went beyond the skills he had. He knew very little about women, and much less about teenagers. And they were soldiers, not a social workers.

Whatever other thoughts Throttle had in his mind were suddenly gone. He felt something grab him by the tail and yanked him. HARD. He and Modo both let out loud yelps of pain. The tug was so strong both were losing their balance. Throttle was able to grab the diner counter before he could topple over. Modo was not as lucky. He wobbled slightly and fell over onto the floor, his arms and legs plopping down. As Throttle and everyone rushed to Modo's side to help him up, Andy and Jet quickly stopped the work they were doing and quickly rushed over to the counter. Each had a look of surprise on their face, Andy's mixed with worry and concern.

"What?" Andy asked. "What happened?"

"Uhhh," Throttle stuttered, looking up at the two. He couldn't afford to tell Andy that it was his tail that was in pain because Jet was next to him. "Our legs suddenly cramped up. Too much riding and sitting." He turned his head to face Modo as he stood up. "Right, Bro?"

"Right," Modo confirmed as he brushed dust off the front and back of his jeans. "And the stool under me broke and I fell over when the pain hit. Guess I got more bulk on my butt than the seat can take."

"The two of you each had a painful leg cramp all at once at the same time?" Jet asked suspiciously, her eyebrows raised in skepticism.

"Ummm," Modo stuttered.

"It's a strange coincidence, I know," Throttle said. "But that's what happened."

"Uh-huh," Jet said, her look of suspicion staying on her face and her arms crossed against her chest.

"Now we have no reason to not believe them," Andy said to Jet. "How about you go see to that stool while I finish up? Food's almost ready fellas."

Jet went around the counter and picked up the stool Modo was sitting on earlier and turned it around. She examined the legs and stops on the stool, then shook one of the legs and looked at one of them wobbling. She nodded then looked back at Modo.

"Yeah, this one's about ready to fall apart. I'll repair this later." Jet pushed in another stool to replace the one Modo was using earlier. "This should be good for now. You okay? Ya didn't break anythin' on that biker body of yours, did ya?"

"N-no ma'am," Modo rubbed the back of his head again. "The ground broke my fall…and so did my butt." Modo blinked, his eyes widening. "…did I say that last part out loud?"

"Yeah, you did." Jet laughed. "Don't worry-it'll stay between us five. For future reference though, you may wanna go easy on the dogs 'n soda. Cause no matter how soft your butt might be, it won't help you if your gut falls to your knees and you can't fit in a booth. And I don't think your bike will be able to support the extra weight."

Jet winked and walked back to the other side as Modo stood where he was, the waitress still laughing and Modo still blushing and standing like a child who was caught with his hands in the cookie jar. It took all of Throttle's will power not to laugh with the raven haired waitress…though as usual Vinnie showed no self-restraint. Which earned him another pinch on the cheek from Charley. Once they were sure that the two were out of ear shot, the three bikers let out sighs of relief. Charley was smiling innocently at the three. Throttle in turn stared back at Charley.

"What?" Charley asked.

"Pulling our tails? Seriously? Isn't a woman's claim to fame that she has more common sense than a guy?"

"You and Modo were spaced out. I tried calling your name, shaking your shoulder, even snapping my fingers in your face. Nothing worked. Believe me: grabbing your tails was a last resort…which worked a little too well," Charley snorted behind her hand.

"It wasn't funny, Charley-girl," Throttle complained.

"And it still hurts," Modo pouted with a slight whine in his voice. He caressed the end of his tail underneath the counter.

"I'm sorry, Modo," Charley said. "Believe me when I said it was a last resort."

"I'll be alright, Charley ma'am," Modo smiled gently. "You didn't pull that hard…it's feeling much better now. Our tails are very sensitive is all."

"I gotta say Sweetheart, this is a side of you I didn't think you had," Vinnie smirked. "I gotta admit, it's a bit turn on."

Charley looked at Vinnie with a frown on her face. "You just couldn't quit while you were ahead, could you? And you were doing so well these last five minutes at keeping that foot out of your mouth too."

"Believe us, Charley-ma'am: five minutes without making an idiot of himself is a record for Vinnie."

Charley, Throttle, and Modo burst into laughter after she said those words. Vinnie frowned like a spoiled three year old child who did not get his way and crossed his arms across his chest.

"I get no respect," he grumbled to himself.

"You make it too easy," Charley teased, but instead of pinching his cheek again she just gently caressed it. "But alright. We'll stop for now."

That in turn caused Vinnie's jaw to drop for a moment, then in turn smiled sheepishly at Charley. Throttle rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile a little at Vinnie's sudden change in demeanor. It was nice to have peace again for a little while and just enjoy moments like these. Peace. It was peaceful…too peaceful. Not that Throttle didn't enjoy peace; he had moments where he liked a little quiet and the time to reflect. But the length of the peace…it was unsettling. Ever since the Tug Transformer incident several months back, there hadn't been a peep from Limburger since. It wasn't like him to stay down for long, especially since he rebuilt his tower again. It was making him concerned.

"Throttle?" Modo gently poked him on his tattooed shoulder. "Throttle you okay? You spaced out…that's not like you."

"Hmm?" Throttle turned his head and faced his gray-furred face friend. "Sorry, big fella. I was just doing some thinking, that's all. This has been on my mind for a while. How many months has it been since Limburger attacked us?"

"Well " Vinnie started counting on his fingers. "We destroyed his tower around February this year, and since it's close to May he's been inactive for about close to three months now."

"That's what worries me," Throttle said. "When he takes this long in making an attack on us, it means he's planning something. Maybe later we should go over to his tower and-"

"Hold that thought, Throttle," Charley interrupted, pointing ahead.

When Throttle and Modo turned their heads around, they saw Jet walking towards them, carrying an enormous tray filled with hot dogs and four large mugs filled with root beer on a tray in her hands. They quickly quieted down as she approached. She stopped in front of the table and set the tray down, the glasses making a slight shaking noise as she did. When Jet looked up, Throttle noted she took note of their serious demeanor, then shook her head slightly and set the food items down on their table.

"No need to explain anything to me. It's none of my business to know what you all are talking about," Jet said, setting the last root beer mug on the table. "If you need anything else, just call me." She then pointed a finger at Vinnie as he was about to open his mouth. "That does NOT include my phone number OR my measurements."

As Jet turned around and went in back, Throttle and everyone laughed again as Vinnie just blinked and stared.

"Damn, she's good," Vinnie admired. "Does she have psychic powers or something?"

"No, you're just really predictable," Charley winked which resulted in more laughs.

Almost as soon as the laughter had ebbed, Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo made for the hot dogs and began to stuff them into their mouths. Charley just stared at them for a few moments and rolled her eyes.

"With the way you guys eat, it's a miracle I have never gotten indigestion." When there was an opening, she quickly grabbed a hot dog off the pile before Vinnie grabbed two more.

As Throttle finished his fifth hot dog, he took note of Modo's eye catching something. As he turned his head to what Modo was looking at, he saw two children riding scooters across the street the diner was facing. One of the children rode by the diner again the opposite direction. Her head was covered with a pink helmet with black straps, but her hair was long, choppy, and black. Almost as soon as that smile appeared on his face, it disappeared as his mind wandered of again. Throttle knew what Modo was thinking about right now. And it was time to bring him back to reality.

"Modo? Modo?" Throttle waved his hand in Modo's face. "Big guy? Hello?

"Huh?" Modo blinked, then turned and faced Throttle. "Oh. Sorry, Bro. Mah mind drifted off for a moment there."

"So I noticed," Throttle said, slightly amused. "I can tell by that thoughtful daze that it wasn't about Jet."

"Yeah. It lacked the blush and the idiot grin most men usually have around certain ladies," Charley joked. "But seriously, what's going on inside of that head of yours, Modo?"

"I was just thinking about the kid we met two weeks ago. That little girl with the black hair, Danielle."

"You mean Squirt?" Vinnie asked. "What about her, Bro?"

"It's just that well did we do the right thing? Taking her back there?"

"Bro, that was where her home is," Vinnie said matter-of-factly. "Who are we to say where she can and cannot live?"

"No one deserves to live in a dump like she does. And did you even bother to look at her clothes? Her jeans looked like they were barely hanging on by a thread. Everything about her was a mess, and I swear I smelled smoke and alcohol on her. Whoever would let someone go out in public like that, and drink and smoke around them, is not fit to raise so much as a housefly. Let alone a teenage girl!"

"Modo, look at me," Charley said. "I understand what you're saying, and I agree. If life were fair, this Danielle girl you're talking about would be living in a two-story house at the Gold Coast, a room of her own, and have a mom and dad to spoil her rotten and give her more love than she can stomach. But unfortunately, it's not. She has a family already. It's not up to us to decide whether or not they're good for her."

"As much as I hate to say it, we need to be realistic, Bro," Throttle said. "Say that we all agreed to track down Danny and have her move out of her place. Where will be have her live?"

"Maybe we can have her stay for a day or two at the Sc-"

"Are you nuts?" Vinnie asked, shocked at Modo's suggestion. "You know what would happen if we took the midget in?" Vinnie started counting off on his fingers. "Make sure she gets to school on time. Schedule who picks her up from school. Make sure homework's done. Enforce curfew. That's not including any hobbies she might get into. Need I go on?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, Vinnie has a point," Charley agreed. "And as much as I want to help her and give her a chance at a better life, I don't have the money for it. Raising kids at any age is expensive, and I'm barely making ends meet as it is."

"And if Limburger finds out we took in a kid, she'd be a prime target for being a regular prisoner and used for hostage negotiation," Throttle added in. "So as you can see, Bro, taking her in is not in the cards," Throttle concluded. "I'm sorry, really."

"I know, everyone. I know," Modo said sadly. "It's just that-"

"You don't need to explain, Modo," Charley said. "We know how much you love kids and everything. I wish there was more we could do for her too, believe me."

Sensing that the conversation finally finished, the three resumed eating the hot dogs laid out before them. However, Modo ate at a slower pace than they normally did, then stopped and started pushing the hot dogs back and forth with his index finger.

_Yeah…he's not gonna let this go_ , Throttle thought to himself as he chewed. _He's gonna find a way around this…and the sad part is, I'd do the same thing if I were in his place._

* * *

 

Danny ran with her bike behind the corner of an alley, clutching her backpack to her. She pressed her back to the wall, huffing and puffing trying to catch her breath. She heard the fast footsteps of people and the Spanish profanities they were yelling get louder as they got closer, then softer as they ran past where she had hidden herself. Once she was sure the danger had passed, Danny dug her hand inside her backpack and pulled out an item wrapped in bright yellow paper. She unwrapped it, revealing a chili cheeseburger. After inhaling the scent of melted cheese, freshly cooked meat and spices infused in the chili, she bit down on the burger and chewed vigorously. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she sighed contently while chewing and swallowing, savoring the three way combinations of meat, spices, bread and cheese.

As she had no money to buy food (Keith was always withholding allowance whenever he could), she decided to wait until two random strangers had walked away from their order, possibly to get napkins. When she was sure they was far enough away, she made a grab for their burgers combo meal and took off with it as fast as she could. By the time the customer realized she had stolen his food she had already put a great distance between the two. Of course, that didn't stop him from trying. He ran as fast as he could after her, but one of the customer's large stomach bounced with every step which made him take pause in between every few sprints which resulted in the other stopping. By then Danny had been able to get enough distance to make a sharp turn and hide before they could catch up.

_They should be thanking me,_ she thought to herself as she finished the cheeseburger. _They needed the exercise and I just spared their arteries the extra cholesterol._

Danny wiped the chili off her face with the wrapper then licked the chili off from there. At first she was tempted to eat the second chili cheeseburger she stole, but then decided against it. If there was a chance she wouldn't be able to find the Biker Mice before nightfall, she wanted to make sure she had some extra food on her just in case. After all, who knows when she'll get another chance at a free meal? She grabbed the handlebars of her bike, and after making sure her stalkers were nowhere to be seen, exited the alley with her bike. It was already close to two, and she didn't want to risk wasting any more time making her way to Quiggley Field. The longer she took, the greater chance one of Keith's colleagues, or one of his other superiors, would find her. And her only chance of escaping the drug ring she and Raquelle were stuck in would be gone for good.

_No…no that's not gonna happens to me. I'll make it to Quiggley Field before the day's out, and before Keith or Joe find me._ Danny dug into her bag and pulled out a large cup with a straw, then took a sip, paused, and squinted her face. _Probably should've found out what this guy ordered to drink before I stole it,_ she thought. _I think I just sipped Diet Coke. Why do people think drinking anything with the label "diet" while eating burgers, dogs and fries will keep them from looking like Jabba the Hut, or the Kingpin?_

Danny just shrugged it off and finished the soda. While she was no fan of the taste, she was not about to let a drink go to waste, especially when it was free (for her). She then tossed the empty soda cup into a nearby trash bin and climbed back on her bicycle to start pedaling off again. The sooner she reached Quiggley Field, the safer she would be. At least she hoped. But all the running around made her lose her sense of direction, and all the landmarks looked different during the day than they would at night. Even when the growling of her stomach ceased, all the riding and running still left her drained. She wasn't sure if she could continue on this way much longer. She dug into her pockets hoping the far corner had any change on her to buy a bus or subway ticket the rest of the way, but was disappointed to come up empty. And her student public transit card was empty and she couldn't afford a new one.

_Come on, Danny,_ she lectured herself. _If Spiderman can persevere against foes even with everyone against him, you can bike the rest of the way to Quiggley Field. It's just a few miles…a few miles more and you'll be free._

As Danielle began to climb on her bike, a noise suddenly caught her interest. She tilted her head in order to hear better. The noise sounded like two men in conversation. However, the voices were too far off to be understood. It piqued at her curiosity.

_I wonder what they're talking about?_ she thought to herself. _Should I listen in? Or just butt out? It's not really my business. Besides, I need to get to Quiggley Field as soon as possible. Can't afford to waste any more time than I already have._

Danielle continued on her destination, passing through several broken-down and crumbling office buildings. She took notice of a purple limousine parked against a crumbling curb past one of the decaying buildings on a run down and broken street parallel to the one Danny was riding her bike on. Next to the limousine was a green chopper-like motorcycle, with oil barrels on its side, and a broken orange umbrella behind its seat. Several dune buggies were behind the bike, but they were of little concern to the teenager. However, what did get her attention was a strong stench that overwhelmed her nostrils as soon as she walked by. She began to gag and double over, the smell overpowering her.

_UGH! WHAT THE FUCK!_ Danielle pinched her nostrils with her right hand. _It smells like rancid grease mixed with dead bodies inside a stadium bathroom on Super Bowl day! Seriously, I slept in gutters and dumpsters that smelled better than they do. Have these guys ever heard of soap and water? Some deodorant wouldn't kill them either._

Danielle struggled to continue on and not breathe through her nose. The last thing she wanted to do was pause in her mission and vomit. But God, the smell was almost too much for her to bear. She tried to continue pedaling on, but in the end the stench was too much for her nostrils to bear, and she had to stop and press herself to the wall. She continued breathing through her mouth to avoid taking in the smell as much as she could and prayed the nausea would pass soon so she could continue on her journey to Quiggley Field.

"Greasepit, my injudicious lackey." A smooth, elegant and sophisticated British accent caused Danny to look up, despite feeling ill. "How goes Operation: Redemption?"

_Hey. I know that voice! That sounds like…crap his name? He's that business tycoon that's adored by everyone in Chicago. What was his name…he's named after some smelly cheese. He looks the end result of a one night stand between Jabba the Hutt and Joker gone horribly wrong. Umm…oh yeah! Limburger! Lawrence Limburger!_ Danny paused for a moment. _What's he talking about though? Some new merger he's trying to make or something?_

Danielle peeked through the other side of the wall to get a better look at what was going on. When she peered over, she saw Limburger's round, blue haired and multi-chinned head peeping out through the passenger side of the limousine, holding a lit cigar in his gloved hand. On the chopper bike next to the limousine was a man, appearing to be between seven and eight feet tall. His entire body laws made up of muscle. His wrists were covered with spiked wristbands and black grease. His large head was bald minus a tiny red cap perched on his head. His eyes were big and black. His jaw stuck out slightly, with some of his teeth sticking out from his bottom lip. His upper body was bare except for the blue straps of his overalls. Various parts of his covered legs had spots of grease on them from his knees to his steel-toed shoes.

"Duh so far so good Boss," he stuttered after Limburger blew a cloud of smoke in his face.

"Excellent," Limburger crooned. His large lips formed a wide, toothy smirk. "I want nothing to stop my latest shipment to Plutark. And what of those vapid vermin? Have they caught on to our operation yet?"

"Uhh d-duh, no boss," Greasepit stuttered again. "No signs 'a dem Biker Mice. Duh, I don't dey knows about da new plan."

"Good," Limburger said. "I cannot afford anymore failures. The High Chairman-"

Before Limburger could finish, a noise stopped him. Danny quickly pressed herself back against the wall, biting her lip and trying to get her heart rate to go back down to normal. In trying to hear better, she accidentally kicked an aluminum can across the sidewalk nearby. It continued to roll down the gutter until it reached the curb. From there, it rolled into the storm drain.

"Greasepit?" Limburger continued.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"You know what to do."

Danielle dared to peek one inch from where she was to see what was going on. Limburger rolled up the window of his limousine. The purple vehicle drove down the street, with the chopper bike and dune buggies driving in the opposite direction. Danielle pressed her back against the concrete wall again, allowing herself to breathe a soft sigh of relief. She pressed her hand to her chest to try to clam down her heart.

_Cagada! They almost saw me! she thought. I just wish I knew what they were talking about. Damn walls and distance. Operating…re something. What the hell does that mean? And High Chairman? Does he mean Chairman of the Board or something? Wait…he mentioned the Biker Mice. What do they have to do with Limburger?_ Danny paused. I _probably should've asked them more about where they came from and why they came to Earth. All the more reason to hurry and get to Quiggley Field. If this Limburger guy is up to something, and it sounds like he is, they'll wanna know. Who knows: it could also be the perfect incentive for them to make me part of their crew._

Before Danielle could start pedaling off, she felt a strong force grab her shirt from behind. She tried to scream, but she couldn't. A half-fingered gloved hand covered her mouth. She screamed against the hand, her voice muffled. Her captor wrapped an arm around her waist. She felt it squeezing oxygen out of her body. Her muffled screaming stopped abruptly. All that mattered was preserving precious oxygen. The arm lifted her up against her captor's chest. She felt fabric brushing against her own.

Her brown eyes looked up to see who her captor was. His pale face was covered with black sunglasses. His head was completely bald, save for a blond ponytail. His mouth formed a toothy smile. Danielle gulped.

_Not a good smile. Not good for me at all._

"I thought the noise came from here," he said. The goon gave Danielle the once over look. "Hmm "

"Let me go!" Danny struggled against his grasp. "Let me go RIGHT NOW!"

"Sorry, but no can do Brat. It's not up to me," he said. While his words were innocent, his tone suggested he was far from apologetic. "I'll bet you've never been with a real man before, have ya?"

"Something tells me you haven't either." Danielle stuck her tongue out at him. "Last warning: put me down, or I'll perform a little amateur sex change on ya right here and now." Never let them know you're afraid…it just makes it worse.

"A feisty little smartass, aren't ya?" the goon smirked. "And you're a Latina; I think my colleagues will like that even more. After you answer our questions of course."

"No, I'm not a hoe," Danny grimaced. She crossed her arms across her small chest. "And even if I was, I wouldn't do it with you. I have WAY higher standards."

"Ha ha. Funny," he said sarcastically. "What did you hear?"

"Hear? What're you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid! You know what I'm talking about!"

"Who did youse find?

Danielle looked beyond the goon's shoulder while he turned his head back. Greasepit stood where the curb ended, with three more goons behind him. Greasepit leaned forward to examine her. His oily hand grabbed her chin, and turned her head side to side.

"Oh. A twewp," Greasepit concluded. He removed his hand from her face, oil dripping down her chin.

"This TWERP has a name!" she shouted. He used one of her hands to wipe as much oil as she could from her face. She then waved her hand in front of her face. "By the way ever thought of taking a shower? Some breath mints wouldn't be a bad idea either."

"Shut up youze!" Greasepit lectured. "What did youze hear? How much?"

"Nothing!" Danielle yelled. "I was just leaning there catching my breath! Now let me go!"

"You heard da twerp. Let her go."

The goon holding Danielle lightly tossed her into the gutter. Her stomach slammed against the pavement, with her knees against the curb. The five men laughed at her misfortunate state. Danielle pressed her gloved palms onto the asphalt pavement, and began to push herself up. She wiped the gravel bits off her top. She then turned around and glared at her tormentors.

"You're gonna pay for that!" she demanded. Danny slid her left leg back and brought her hands up to her face preparing for a fight. "C'mon! Put 'em up, let's go! I can take you all on-I don't need the Mice to make short work of you flunkies!"

Greasepit instantly stopped laughing as soon as Danny made her boast. Almost instantly, his goons stopped laughing as well. Greasepit pointed at Danielle's direction.

"Wait...you know da Biker Mice?" Greasepit turned to face his goons. "Hey goons! Oblitierizate her! Now!"

_Crap...should not have said that out loud._

Danielle stepped backwards. She looked onto their menacing faces. Greasepit's face was that of complete seriousness, while his fellow goons had malicious smirks on their faces. Two goons pounded a fist into their hands repeatedly. One reached behind him and pulled out a metal chain, while the other pulled out a crowbar. When she took another step backwards, she lost her footing and fell on her butt. She shuffled backwards, but it was of no use. The burly men had longer legs than she did. Danielle gulped nervously.

Greasepit took another step forward, which was his downfall. When his foot landed on the gravel, it also connected to the puddles of oil below him. Almost instantly, he fell over and landed on his back. The goons behind him got sprayed in the face with the man's grease. One goon blindly took another step forward, causing him to lose his footing under more puddles of grease. He fell backwards, landing on his companions behind him. All of them fell over on top of one another. They all struggled to get off one another, but it they were unable to. They were stuck in a flurry of limbs and oil.

Danielle doubled over in laughter at the sight before her. She then immediately stopped laughing.

_Oh yeah. I should make like a bat and get the hell out of here while I still have a chance._

Danielle raced past her would-be captors and grabbed her bicycle that fell on the ground when she was grabbed. She set her helmet on her head and ran down the road with her bicycle next to her, setting on her helmet. When she got enough momentum, she jumped onto her bicycle and started pedaling down the road. Greasepit slowly sat up and saw her making her get-a-way.

"You stupid goons! We's gotta go after her!"

Greasepit and his goons struggled to rise from the ground, slipping on the grease underneath them once again. After ten minutes of sliding and tripping, they finally made their way back to their vehicles. Greasepit jumped onto his green chopper and drove off, his goons following in their dune buggies. Danielle daringly looked back, which was a mistake on her part. The chopper and dune buggies were gaining speed on her. Soon they were less than two feet away from her.

_Dammit! Can't let them get me! Danielle pumped her legs for all they were worth._ She hissed in pain as she felt her muscles straining from riding so fast, closing her eyes for a moment. _Damn pain! Dunno how much longer I can keep this pace up!_

Danielle opened her eyes for a moment to concentrate on the road before her. Just as she shifted her weight, a laser blast shot past her right ear. The blast zoomed past her, and hit a window of a nearby shop. Another blast zoomed past her, just inches above her head. A loud and brief scream escaped from her mouth. She crouched and leaned forward as much as she could to gain extra speed. As she did, Danielle saw a pothole inching closer to her bicycle. Before she could try and shift her weight, another laser blast got her attention. This one blast, though, was not aimed at any part of her body. The laser blast was aimed at the back tire of her bicycle. The blast hit the concrete, just narrowly missing the tire. However, the force of the blast caused Danielle and her bike to jump into the air slightly. When she did, the front wheel fell into a miniature pot hole. It caused the back of the bike to turn over while jumping into the air with Danielle.

She screamed as she and her bicycle rotated in mid-air. Her body inched closer to the asphalt pavement before her. She shut her eyes, bracing for impact. Her body slammed onto the pavement face first, then rolled over her head for a matter of moments. Her body then lost momentum and stopped, lying on her stomach. She pushed herself up slightly. Bits of gravel covered her face, along with tears of pain from the scratches she got from falling on the street. She shut her eyes and screamed again as her bike landed just a few feet away from her face. Danielle turned back, and saw her pursuers closing in on her. She quickly scrambled to her feet to make her escape. Her efforts were worthless. Just as she got to her feet, a rocket zoomed past her cheeks and slammed into her fallen bicycle. The wheeled vehicle gave off a small explosion. Danielle screamed again and shielded her eyes with her left arm.

She started running again, but a laser blast shot at her feet. This caused her to trip and fall once again. When she tried to push herself up again, she felt the cold barrel of a gun point at the back of her head. Her eyes opened, and saw the burly goons from earlier surrounding her. They smirked wickedly as they pointed their laser guns at her. Danielle gulped fearfully, not wanting to turn around.

"We has youse where wes wants you," Greasepit said. "No one's gonna come ta rescue youse."

Danielle didn't say anything. What could be said in the face of death? She felt a large foot on her back, pinning her down. Drops of grease fell onto her back and the back of her legs. She couldn't move, and she was surrounded on all sides. She looked back at the ground, and shut her eyes. She fought to keep herself from crying, but she felt tears threatening to run down her closed eyes. After everything she been survived, her determination to find the Biker Mice and escape Hell, and she would meet her end in this way. How ironically cruel life was at that moment…and to be the last ironic moment of her life.

_Where are you, Biker Mice?_ Danielle thought to herself. She wanted to scream for them. Cry. Do something. But she couldn't make her mouth move, or move, or anything. _You said you're heroes…why aren't you rescuing me like heroes are supposed to?_

A/N: For those who wish for translations:

Cagada: Shit

A/N: Don't forget to review! And spread the word!


	4. Chapter 4

Charley finished the last of her root beer and set the empty mug onto the table. After she wiped the remaining liquid off the corner of her mouth, a small burp escaped her lips. She pressed her fingers to her mouth instinctively, hoping no one heard her. Her hopes were futile. The table was filled with masculine laughter around her as she blushed, mortified at her lack of table etiquette. The others didn't seem to mind Charley's lack of manners at all. In fact, by the sound of their laughter they seemed to welcome it. Their amusement did nothing to make Charley feel any less embarrassed. If anything, the moment made her feel like a hypocrite as she was usually the one who would reprimand them for their lack of grace, albeit playfully. Charley knew they would never let her live this moment down, especially Vinnie who she usually lectured the most for his lack of grace and sophistication. Modo had his torso and face buried in the counter in an attempt not to let Charley see him laughing at her. It was a futile attempt, but it was the thought that counted. The other two in no way tried to hide their faces at all. In fact, Vinnie was leaning back while laughing, gripping the counter to keep from falling over. Throttle was doubling over while laughing, clutching his stomach.

"Congratulations, Charley-Girl! I think you just broke the world record for loudest belch!" Vinnie patted Charley on the back.

"Sh-shut up Vinnie!" Charley felt her cheeks flame up, still mortified from earlier.

"Let's face it, Bros," Throttle had just finally gotten control of himself. "We're not good role models."

"Oh please." Vinnie smirked. "Being a 'good example' and having manners are overrated." With that, Vinnie let out an even bigger belch and folded his arms behind his back.

"Vincent, I sometimes wonder how that mind of yours functions. If it functions at all." Throttle chuckled when Vinnie stuck out his tongue. "Yeah, Bro. Great comeback."

A small chuckle escaped Charley's mouth as Vinnie frowned at Throttle. Even though the fights her fuzzy friends sometimes annoyed her, at least she was never bored. After the tense and depressing conversation from earlier, Vinnie's childish antics and Throttle's teasing over said antics were like a breath of fresh air. She smiled as the two friends as they continued on with their childish argument. Normally, she would step in to stop Vinnie and whoever he was arguing with because it usually got out of hand as Vinnie lacked impulse control. However, Charley decided to let it go for now. Throttle and Vinnie weren't disturbing anyone or causing property damage, and she knew Throttle was level headed enough to put an end to the arguing before it would get out of hand. Besides, she could tell their arguing wasn't a real argument, but just the two playing around with each other.

The corner of Charley's bluish green eyes turned to the larger companion next to Throttle. Modo continued to stare at the table before him. The index finger of his right hand continued to push an uneaten hot dog back and forth on the plate in front of him. His working red eye on his face focused on the hot dog, but she could tell his mind was elsewhere. The fact that it was still there and didn't even have teeth marks was the first hint. Modo looked as if his mind was struggling for answers to questions. Questions that gnawed at his mind and conscious. Charley looked at Modo's face sadly. If there was one thing she hated most in the world, it was seeing people around her sad and helpless. Especially Modo, with his gentle heart and nurturing disposition. She understood how he felt: she could never turn away from someone in need. It would gnaw at her conscience too much. And she knew it was eating Modo alive as he was the most sensitive of the three. She reached out and rested her hand on top of Modo's bionic hand. Modo looked up at Charley's smiling face.

"I'm sure there's a way to help this kid, Modo. We'll find one. I promise."

"Find what?"

Charley and Modo blinked, and looked up. Jet stood at the table in front of them. Her pink lips formed a gentle smile at the people at the table, putting them all at ease.

"Sorry. Forgot it's none of my business. Just wanted to let you all know that the bill has been taken care of. Guess Andy knows how much of a nightmare it is to keep these three walking garbage disposals full." Jet laughed at her statement.

"Trust me on this, Jet. What you just saw earlier-that was just them eating light. You should see them after a busy day." Charley burst into laughter at her own comment, Jet following close by.  
"Hey!"

"It's the hard truth, Guys. Live with it." Charley turned her attention back to Jet, ignoring Vinnie's protests. "Oh, that's right. Waitresses can't live off minimum wage alone. I owe you a big tip for earlier."

As Charley dug through her purse, a loud whistling sound rang through the diner. Before anyone could figure out the source of the whistling noise, an explosion rocked the diner, the earthquake-like vibrations causing people and items to fall. Charley landed on the cold, hard tile of the floor. As she struggled to push herself off from the floor, she felt a heavy weight fall on her stomach. A loud grunt of pain escaped her pink lips. When she prompted her upper body up by her elbows, she saw Vinnie laying on top of her, his broad chest was pressed hard against Charley's abdomen. Vinnie pressed his hands on the tiled floor and pushed himself up on his elbows, taking the weight off her body and allowing her to breathe again. When he did, his red eyes gazed into her eyes. An arrogant smirk formed on his face.

"Gimme a few minutes, and we can make this position work, Sweetheart." Vinnie wiggled his eyebrows lewdly. Charley frowned and pushed Vinnie off her body, where he landed next to her on his backside. "What was that for!?"

"Your timing needs work Vinnie." Charley frowned at her white furred friend.

"Is everyone alright?" Throttle said to change the subject.

"Yeah, I think so," Charley said.

"Hey! You know you loved it, Babe!"

"You okay back there, Andy?" Throttle called out, ignoring Vinnie.

"Y-yes." Andy slowly stood up from behind the counter.

"Modo?"

"Just a little shaken up," Modo said. He pushed himself up from the floor until he sat up on his knees. "Otherwise, I'm fine." Modo turned his attention to Jet, who was flat on her stomach. He gently pulled Jet up. "You okay, Jet-ma'am?"  
"Yeah, I'm fine," Jet said, brushing the dirt off her shirt and apron with her hands. "But like I said before-don't add 'ma'am' to my name." Jet paused. "Do these earthquakes happen here often?"

"That was no earthquake," Throttle said. A frown formed on his face. "That sounded like an explosion."

"An explosion?" Jet's face went pale. "Suddenly I'm considering moving back to New York."

Charley grabbed the edge of the table and pulled herself up. After dusting herself off, she turned around to find out what caused the explosion. When she turned, she saw a horde of men armed with bazookas surrounding something on the ground. Greasepit was amongst the horde of men, aiming his weapon at something on the cemented road. What they were aiming at was the dilemma.

"It looks like some of Limburger's goons caused the explosion," Charley said. "And-" Charley's face began to turn pale. "Oh. My. Go—they're about to kill someone!"  
"On it!"

With that, Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo raced past the two women and ran out of the diner. Jet and Charley watched them race outside.

"Okay, someone needs to tell me what the hell is going on here," Jet said with her arms crossed against her ample chest.

Charley bit her lip. She was not sure how she was going to explain this situation.

* * *

Modo was the first to reach the diner's door. He pushed it open with full force, the framework slamming against the right side of the outer wall. He raced outside, Throttle and Vinnie right behind him, and stopped almost as soon as he stepped outside. Greasepit and a small band of goons had formed a small-sized circle in the middle of the street, their dune buggies parked close by with a charred bicycle frame less than a block in front of them. However, that was not what had forced Modo to halt. When his working red eye wandered to where their guns were pointed at, he felt as though it would burst out of its socket. A teenage girl was lying on the pavement. Modo squinted his eye, it going wide again when he recognized the disheveled black hair and oversized sweatshirt covering a petite feminine body.

"DANNY!" Modo instantly saw red through his working eye. He raised his mechanical arm at Greasepit, who had suddenly turned to face him. An arm cannon popped out his boxy forearm, a blue light sparkling at the barrel of the cannon. He aimed his right arm at Greasepit's head. "Let. Her. Go. NOW!"

"Huh!?" Greasepit turned his head around and saw Modo's face. His black eyes went wide, and his weapon almost fell from his hand to the pavement. "Not youse Biker Mice again! Can't I go anywheres without youse finding me!?"

"Believe me, seeing your ugly mug is no picnic for us." Throttle snarked, his gun pointed at Greasepit's face.

"Who'd wanna stalk an ugly environmental disaster like you?" Vinnie snorted. Like Throttle, Vinnie also had his gun pointed at Greasepit.

"Shut up, youse Mice!" Greasepit pressed the barrel of his laser gun harder against Danielle's head. "Youse wants dis twerp to live? Youse do what I say."

Modo's eye suddenly stopped glowing and returned to its normal color. He looked at the random goons, then looked at the pavement. When he did, he looked at Danielle's face. Though he could not see her face, he could tell that she was crying. His large ears picked up sobbing sounds, soft as they were, and his nostrils picked up a salty water scent. She looked up to see for herself that he was there, her watery brown eyes looking into his working red eye. They went wide for a moment, as if processing that he was there, then looked at him pleadingly. He gave a hard gulp. He couldn't bring himself to let anyone die, especially a child. He hated feeling helpless. He wanted to shoot Greasepit and his followers, then race to Danielle and put her in his protective embrace. However, he knew he couldn't. What if a goon managed to kill her before Modo could stop him?

_He'd do it. Greasepit wouldn't think twice about killing an innocent bystander, especially a little girl._ Modo pressed the cannon back into his arm, then lowered it. Greasepit had the upper hand, and he knew it. "You win."  
"Bro! The hell are you-" Vinnie began, but Throttle held his hand to his face. "What gives, Throttle?"

"You know we can't get civilians involved in this, Vincent," Throttle answered. "Besides, the kid's the bait. Limburger wants us, not her. You and I both know that Modo wouldn't think twice about risking his life for a child." The tan-furred mouse turned his attention back to Greasepit, and lowered his weapon. "And neither would we."

"Yeah, you're right." Vinnie sighed grudgingly, and followed Throttle's example. "Dammit! Can't believe we're gonna let that walking toxic waste dump win!"

"What's going on!?"

Modo, Throttle, and Vinnie turned around when they heard a familiar accent. When they did, they noticed Jennessa had followed the three mice outside, with Charley and Andy following her. They tried to pull her back inside, but she just shrugged them off as if they were just rags on her back. All three of them just stood close to the street, staring at what was before them. Jennessa's left arm was extended with her index finger pointing at the scene in front of her.

"What the hell kind of gang war is going on out here!?"

"Charley-girl! Andy! Jet! Get back inside now-this does NOT concern you!" Throttle yelled at them.

"Throttle…is that a girl down there?" Charley asked, her blue-green eyes widening. "She that kid you were talking about earlier!?"

"Wh-what's going on here, boys!?"

"Lookie lookie, goons!" Greasepit laughed. "It's a hostage buffet! Plenty to go around for uses!"

Greasepit and his fellow goons laughed at his joke. The oily muscle-bound man grabbed Danny by the scruff of her hair, picked her up and threw her into the arms of a random goon. Greasepit then took the gun he used to aim at Danny's head and aimed it at Jet's face. As he prepared to pull the trigger, Modo lunged at the three people on the concrete pavement. The red laser blast had narrowly missed the top of his head, shooing and breaking a window instead. That incident had caused Greasepit and the goons to look at the damage they had caused. With that brief distraction, Throttle and Vinnie aimed their guns at the men before them and shot at them. The laser blasts from their guns hit the laser guns they were holding. With their primary weapons gone, the goons were now at Throttle and Vinnie's mercy. Smirks were on the two's faces.

"Looks like we have them where we want them, Vincent," Throttle said coolly.

"I've been itching for a fight lately," Vinnie smirked. "Yo Modo! Wanna join in?"

Modo smirked and cracked the knuckles on his left hand. "Bro, ya read my mind." He turned his attention back to the three in front of them, the smirk gone. Instead, it was replaced with concern. "Are all of you alright?"

"Yeah," Andy said.

"Bit shook up, but fine," Charley said.

"I'm alive. That's a good sign," Jet added in.

"Good to hear." Modo smiled. "Excuse me for a moment. I have some 'issues' to take care of." Modo sat up from his position. When he turned, he snarled at the goons and Greasepit. He felt his working eye glowing red again. He raised his right arm again, the cannon popping out once more. "You threaten a lady, I get mad. Threaten a harmless man, I get mad. You threaten a helpless child, and you've crossed the line with no hope to return. Threaten both at the same time…let me put it this way: what color flowers do you boys want at your funeral?"

Throttle and Vinnie aimed their weapons out as well. Greasepit and the goons backed off gradually at the weapons pointed in their faces. The small band of thugs looked at each other for a moment, then back at the Mice. They screamed, threw Danny to the ground hoping they'd have no more reason for the mice to go after them, and began to run away on the right side of the street. Greasepit yelled at his comrades to get back into their original positions to help him fight. However, his commands went unheeded. The goons ran on, tumbling and tripping over each other as they did, raced back into their dune buggies and drove off in the opposite direction of the diner. Greasepit slowly turned his head and re-faced the Biker Mice. He gulped fearfully in their direction. He slowly began to back off, with the Biker Mice slowly ganging up on him.

"Looks like we have right where we want him, Bros," Throttle said coolly.

"Dibs on using his head as a bongo drum!" Vinnie added gleefully.

"Only after I get to use him as a punching bag," Modo added.

Greasepit backed up until his back touched the handle bars of his chopper. He quickly jumped on his motorcycle and revved up the engine. Before any of the guys could think or do anything, Greasepit slammed his foot on the pedal of his motorcycle and drove forward at incredibly fast pace. The Biker Mice ran in separate directions to avoid being run over by their oily nemesis. Greasepit made a u-turn on his bike, the tires making a loud squeaking noise and leaving tire marks on the street. He revved up his engine and drove forward once more. However, he did not go after the Biker Mice like everyone was expecting him to do. As he drove by the three people on the sidewalk, he grabbed Jet by the front of her black shirt and yanked her forward from the sidewalk. A loud scream escaped from her mouth as she was pulled from where she was. Charley and Andy attempted to grab Jet and pull her back. However, because of the speed of Greasepit's chopper, their fingers had narrowly missed her hand. Almost instantly, Greasepit brought his bike to a halt. Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo stood between Greasepit and the road before him, each on their motorcycles.

"I'm going to be as nice as I can," Throttle said. "Let the lady go, or-"

"Or we'll crush that empty head of yours like an empty root beer can," Modo finished, snarling at his oily nemesis.

"Youse meeses are forgettin' one big ting," Greasepit mocked. He pushed the barrel of his gun against Jet's right temple. "I has an advantage over all youse. As long as I still hang onto this chickie here, you can't dos nuttin to me."

"WHO THE HELL YA CALLIN' A CHICKIE, YA WALKIN' ENVIRONMENTAL DISASTER!?" Jet yelled.

With that said, Jet curled her left hand into a fist and raised her arm up. When she did, she punched the gun right out of Greasepit's hand, causing it to go flying in the air. Greasepit turned his back to Jet, trying to grab his blaster. That proved to be a big mistake for the oil-dripping nitwit. Jet took a step backwards with her left leg, and with great speed, she spun her body and her right foot made contact with the left side of Greasepit's stomach. Greasepit cried out in pain, stumbled backwards, doubling over and clutching his side. That was mistake number two as his face was now parallel to hers. Jet clenched her right hand into a fist, pulled her arm back, then made contact with his jaw. She repeated this act again and again. With every punch Greasepit stumbled backwards even more. He tried to fight back and took a swing at the waitress. Jet merely ducked, then made two jabs at his stomach which made the overall clad goon double over in pain once more. Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo just stood where they were, staring at the sight of Jet beating the crap out of someone not only several feet taller than her, but with a larger physique. All three of them were dumbfounded at what they saw, but none more than Modo, whose jaw hung low as he watched Jet making short work of Greasepit.

"Bros, remind me not to get on her bad side," Vinnie pleaded.

"I was going to ask you guys to remind me too," Throttle added.

The three turned their attention back to the showdown—no—smackdown between Jet and Greasepit. Greasepit's nose looked crooked from taking one too many punches in the face, and it looked as Jet gave him a black left eye, and he lost what was left of his teeth. He stumbled backwards, swaying from side to side, dizzy from Jet's relentless pummeling. And it looked like she was nowhere near done with him. Jet took a few steps back, then came running towards Greasepit. When he looked up, his eyes went wide. She jumped briefly into the air, and kicked Greasepit hard in the face before landing on the concrete ground once more. That kick made him lose his balance and finally tumble backwards, sliding on his own grease and sliding down back to the street and crash against his bike. Jet looked back at the three, and smirked.

"Oh, did I forget to mention I've been boxing since I could walk?" While her question was innocent, the smirk and tone said otherwise. "And as a single woman from one big city to another, self defense classes are a definite must."

"No…I would've remembered you saying that." Throttle just shook his head as Jet made her way back to Charley and Andy, who were making sure she was alright.

"Damn, that woman's a walking firecracker." Vinnie paused, then barked a laugh. "I love it!"

_Oh Momma…help me, I think I'm in love._  Modo blinked when he felt a finger touch the bottom of his chin and push his jaw up, then turned and looked at Throttle, who just smirked at him.

"Quit drooling, Modo. It's undignified."

"I gotta say Bro, you really know how to pick 'em," Vinnie laughed. "I never pegged you as an Amazon chaser."  
"Sh-shut up bros!" Modo blushed, flustered at their teasing. "I don't even know her!"

Greasepit slowly stood up again, clutching the handles of his chopper for support as his knees were buckling from the previous beatdown. He slowly swung his leg back over, and started up the engine. That was the cue Throttle, Vinnie and Modo needed. Throttle brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled, which made all three of their bikes race to their respective riders which they wasted no time in boarding. Throttle was the first to reach Greasepit. He grabbed the oily man by his neck and lifted him high into the air. He twirled Greasepit in the air for a brief moment, Greasepit's wailing and screaming filling the air. Throttle tossed Greasepit to Vinnie as though he were nothing more than a rag doll. When Greasepit was in range, Vinnie wrapped his tail around his waist in midair. He tossed the oily man over to Modo, who was cracking his hand's knuckles in anticipation. Just when Greasepit reached his face, Modo clenched his left arm into a fist and delivered the burly man a swift uppercut punch to his massive jaw. The force of the punch sent Greasepit flying into the air. His screaming and wailing gradually died out the further away from the street center he got. Eventually, his figure in the air became a tiny black dot, and then nothing more.

Modo wiped his hands together, then wiped his right hand on his jeans. He turned to his bros, and smiled.

"Not to shabby, huh Bros?"

"Personally, the routine's getting old," Vinnie commented. He paused, then leaned closer. "And if anyone asks, we received no outside help."

"Yeah, I seriously doubt Charley-girl is gonna let us deny that happened," Throttle commented. "Plus, something tells me if Jet suspects we treat her like some delicate flower after what we just saw, we're gonna be her next punching bag."

"I gotta adm-"

Before Modo could finish what he was about to say, the corner of his working eye noted something peculiar. He slowly turned his head towards the street. When he did, his eye widened in surprise. The street was completely empty, save for a few stray dune buggies, Greasepit's chopper, himself, his bros, and everyone on the sidewalk. Modo jumped off his motorcycle and searched the street frantically. He went on his knees, looking at the ground for any details for anything. A hand touched his left shoulder. Modo blinked, and looked up. When he did, he saw Throttle looking at him. A puzzled look was on his friend's face, even though the beige visor hid most of his face.

"What's wrong, Big Fella?" Throttle asked.

"The kid! Danny!" Modo said frantically. He quickly stood up. "She was here a moment ago, and now she's gone!" Modo pauses for a moment to catch his breath. "Dangit! She must've ran off during the fight." Modo immediately ran back to his motorcycle.

"Modo! What're you doing?"

"I gotta go find Danny!" Modo answered, starting the engine to his motorcycle. "I gotta find out if she's okay. And figure out what Limburger wants with her!"

"Vincent and I are going with you," Throttle said. "No way we're letting you go look for her by yourself."  
"I'll be fine," Modo assured him. "I'm the only one she listens to, remember? Besides, I think Jet ma'am wants a word with you two."

Modo pointed in front of Throttle. He looked at him funny, and he turned his face to figure out what he was pointing at. When he did, Throttle gulped loudly. Charley was holding onto Jet's arms, trying to diffuse whatever had gotten her upset with Andy further trying to placate the raven haired waitress. The three were a bit of a distance from them, but Throttle could pick up bits and pieces of the conversation. Jet sounded angry and wanted an explanation, and Charley was trying to explain what happened without giving away the secret of their Martian heritage. Andy was trying to do the same, but it didn't look like Jet was accepting what they were saying. Throttle appreciated them trying to sedate the new woman's anger, but knew the two could not keep her at bay for very long. Vinnie also stared at this, and turned to Modo and glared at him.

"Why else do you think we wanna come with you!?" Vinnie screamed at him.  
"Better it's just me than all of us," Modo said. "If we all take off, Charley-ma'am's gonna be madder than hell with all of us."

Before Throttle or Vinnie could further argue, Modo took off on his bike.

* * *

Modo drove down the streets, looking for any sign of human activity. He came to a stop when he heard a loud metal sound. He turned his head to locate the source of the noise. To him, it sounded as though a large metal lid slammed closed. The noise was faint, but he knew he wasn't imagining what he heard. Modo swung his leg over the front of his motorcycle and stood up. He turned and gently caressed the handlebars of his bike.

"Don't worry, Lil' Hoss. I won't be gone long, I promise," Modo assured his motorcycle.

Modo turned around and looked at an alley way before him. Trash cans lined the crumbling brick wall, with various boxes scattered across the ground. The crumbling walls were covered with graffiti. Various pieces of paper blew across the ground and pressed against Modo's boots. The alley looked as if it were a miniature wasteland.

Modo kicked the papers off of his feet. He took a deep breath, and walked to the alley. He heard his footsteps echoing off the walls, but he shrugged it off. He approached a large cardboard box next to an overflowing trash can. He went down onto one knee between the trash can and the cardboard box and grabbed a loose piece. He immediately pulled the box off of the ground.

"Found ya-what?"

When Modo lifted the box, he did not see Danielle there at all. All that was on the ground before him were various pieces of trash. He just knelt there in shock, unsure of what to do next. He was absolutely sure that Danielle had been hiding there. He heard her breathing, heard the shuffling of feet on the ground, and heard the movement of items. All the evidence pointed to the exact location he was at. He just couldn't make any sense out of it. Modo sighed in defeat and stood up. He figured it was pointless to continue to search. There were no signs of Danielle still being in the alley. He turned around and walked back to his motorcycle. He caressed the handlebars of Lil' Hoss gently and smiled sadly at his beloved motorcycle.

"She ain't there," he said and climbed back on her. "I'm guessing she ran off somewhere else. I want to go after her, but Throttle and Vinnie need me back at the diner. I'm sure they're getting their ears chewed out by Charley-ma'am and Jet-ma'am by now." Modo sighed to himself and swung his right leg over his motorcycle. He sat back down on the leather seat and leaned against the back frame of his bike. "I just hope she's okay."

Modo re-started his motorcycle's engine and drove down the street once more.

* * *

Danny slowly lifted a trash can lid off of her head to scan the surrounding area. Once she was sure that no one was there, she removed the lid and climbed out of the trash can. She brushed various pieces of garbage off of her clothes and looked behind her. Seeing that the coast was clear so far, she ventured down to the end of the alley. She looked left and right, but then stopped. There was no point in looking for Modo and his motorcycle. Danny pressed her back against the brick wall and slowly sank onto the ground. Huddling her knees to her chest and burying her face in them, she took heavy breaths in an attempt to keep herself from crying. Danny refused to cry, even if no one else was around. Tears were a sign of weakness, and she would not allow herself to be weak, even in front of herself.

While on the ground, Danny struggled to regain her composure. She turned her head and looked back at the road. During the time when Greasepit and his goons surrounded her, she honestly thought she was going to die. If Modo had not shown up and yelled, she most likely would have died. When she saw the Biker Mice, relief had flooded her senses. It was just like in her comics: when all hope was lost, the hero would arrive at the last minute to save the day. However, she did not count on her survival instinct to kick in. When they fought, her body acted on its own accord and ran away. Her mind yelled for her body to do otherwise, but it felt as though her body has a mind of its own then. She was also afraid if she didn't leave, the men that attacked her would have killed her between fighting Modo and his friends. Running wasn't the smartest option she could have thought of, but it was all her body could have done at that moment. So was hiding in that silver trash can for safety. When she realized the one searching for her was Modo and not those men from earlier, she wanted to jump out of the trash and run to him. Her personal mission would have been completed, and she would have finally been safe. But everything she set out to do was hampered by her fear from almost being shot at earlier. By the time she finally could, he was long gone. She could not hope to go after him. Her bicycle was destroyed, and her feet could not keep up with a motorcycle. All she could bring herself to do was sink to the ground. All hope of finally being free from Keith's clutches was gone. All dreams of interstellar adventures were gone. All dreams of being part of something grander than herself, and being in the company of those who could care for her, were gone.

_What am I supposed to do now?_  Danielle thought to herself, biting her lower lip.  _I can't go back home…Keith will kill me for sure if he finds out I skipped out on him. I can't go to the police-they'll wanna know how I know everything. At the best they'll drag me and Raquelle back to my abuelos…and we'll be in the same boat as before. Or there's juvie…or at the worst, the county'll wanna charge me as an adult and haul my ass off to prison. Keith's got friends on the inside…they could mess me and Raquelle up bad too. Either way, my ass is grass._ Danielle blinked when she felt something fall on her shoulder.  _What?_

When she looked up, she saw dark gray clouds blanketing the blue sky. A single drop of water fell from the dark clouds, splashing on the ground next to her feet. More and more droplets followed, until the ground became soaked by the rain. Danny frowned as she felt the rain soaking through her skin, clothes, and hair. It was just her luck to stuck in the rain without an umbrella, poncho, or any other form of protection aside from the hood of her sweatshirt. She then blinked, remembering something. She pulled the hood up from the back and covered her head with it.

_Figures it would start raining_ , she thought to herself as she covered her head. _Of all days not to have an umbrella._

After she flipped her hood forward, Danielle stood up and looked ahead of her. She knew she had to leave sooner or later. She doubted Modo and the other mice were back at the street she was at earlier. Even if they were, she had no idea how to get back. Her brain was on autopilot as she ran and she did not recognize any landmarks to help her get back. Her best bet was to try for Quiggley Field before the end of the day. The rain began to pick up speed, and fell at a faster pace, soaking her all over. But at that moment, she didn't care anymore. The sooner she got to Quiggley Field, the better.


	5. Chapter 5

Alright! A new chapter ready to go! Biker Mice from Mars does not belong to me. Characters are being used without permission, but no profit is being made from this story. Danielle "Danny" Aguirrez belongs to me. Jenessa "Jet" Velocita belongs to Tess La Calme. Please no using the characters without permission from the perspective owners.

I want to thank Tess for taking time out of her busy schedule to review and make suggestions to make my writing better. As well as her hilarious side notes (you know which ones I mean). 

* * *

"I wanna know what the hell is goin' on, and I wanna know NOW!" Jet yelled.

Throttle stared at the human woman in front of him. Though he knew that her confusion and anger was justified, he did not appreciate being yelled at. He folded his arms across his chest and frowned behind the face shield of his helmet. He knew that being patient with a hot-tempered woman such as Jennessa was not going to be an easy task. However, he also knew it was his job to set a good example of being patient with unreasonable people. That was one of the many burdens of being a leader.

"Ma'am, I can hear you fine from a distance. You don't need to shout two inches from my face."

Jet's lips formed a snarl. When Throttle looked at her face, he saw a spark inside her blue eyes. She clenched her hands until they each formed fists, shaking vigorously. Throttle could tell that she was on the verge of losing her temper. All of a sudden she lunged forward at him.

"WHY YOU NO GOOD-"

Much to Throttle's relief, Andy was able to catch Jet almost as instantly as he lunged forward at his neck. Charley quickly grabbed Jet to help Andy suppress the woman from keep her from trying to strangle Throttle to death. He backed off slightly to protect himself, watching in horror as Jet tried to claw at his neck and escape her suppressors at the same time. He had a hard time believing that this woman could be so violent tempered. He saw her yelling at and beating the crap out of Greasepit for the chick comment, but that was to be expected. He couldn't even figure out why she was so angry with him. All he did was ask her not to shout so close to his face.

"Man, she's scary when she's mad," Vinnie butted in, even more amazed than Throttle. "She almost reminds me of Ca-"

"Vincent, quit while you're ahead," Throttle frowned at his younger bro. He had enough problems on his hands at the moment. The last thing he needed was Vinnie shooting his mouth off at the wrong time.

"Jet, calm down! Please!" Andy implored Jet. "Throttle was just asking you not to shout so close to his face. He didn't mean to be insulting."

Jet gradually eased off on her struggling before stopping herself completely. Andy and Charley slowly released their hands from her waist. However, the frown remained on her face remained. Jet's fists re-clenched into balls, then she crossed her arms across her chest. She stared hard at Throttle's face.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but I have issues with people who try to kill me just for knowin' someone, and that someone won't tell me why." Jet said. "Now, who were those guys? What did they want with you? What did that walkin' oil spill mean by 'Biker Mice'? Why was he actin' like he was at war with ya all?"

"Jet, it's alright," Andy said. "This is Chi-town, after all. These things tend to-"

"Andy, what I just saw before my eyes was no ordinary gang fight," Jet argued. "I deserve to know the truth."

"Like I said earlier, it's a long story," Charley tried to explain. "You see-"

"If ya don't mind Charley, I wanna hear the story from them," Jet said. She turned her face to Throttle and Vinnie, and placed her hands on her hips. "Well? Whatcha waitin' for, someone to hold your hand? Spill it! I know you're not from Chicago. Hell, I know ya can't be from anywhere on this planet! I wanna know the truth from you people, an' I wanna know it today! First of all—what the hell are you people? Whadd'ya look like underneath those helmets of yours? And those shirts? I know they ain't real shirts—no one wears muscle shirts that feel like fur. What are you, really?"

Just as Jet finished the start of her interrogation, the sounds of a running engine filled the air. Throttle turned his head to his left to the source of the noise, everyone else following in tow. A blue fatboy motorcycle gradually drew closer and closer on the road. The motorcycle came to a complete halt when it approached the middle of where Throttle and Jet were. Throttle smiled slightly as the rider gradually climbed off the motorcycle.

"Hey Modo," he said. "Any luck finding the kid?"

"Sorry to say 'no'", Modo said. He let a sigh escape his mouth. "When I finally found traces of where she could be, she was long gone. I'm guessing that she ran off back home or somewhere else. I just hope that she's alright."

"I'm sure she-" Throttle began.

"What's this: ignore the confused new girl day!?" Jet yelled. "I want my questions answered, dammit!"

Throttle and Modo turned to face Jennessa. Throttle frowned at Jet. Did she not realize they had a life threatening issue to deal with? Maybe she did-after all, she was almost killed herself and experienced more than any civilian should have. But her lack of patience was wearing his thin. The corner of Throttle's left eye noticed Modo struggling to keep his temper in check. He knew that his larger friend was raised to respect women at all circumstances, even if they could be difficult to deal with. However, her interrogation while Modo was worrying about the whereabouts of the teenager was pushing him beyond limits of his temper. Her anger and confusion were warranted, but not her ignorance. Modo opened his mouth to speak, but Throttle stopped him.

"Ma'am, calm down," Throttle requested. He placed a hand on Modo's shoulder. "We were dealing with a situation."

Jet stared at them for a moment, and the snarl on her face gradually began to decrease. Eventually, it was gone. She took in several deep breaths then looked at them again.

"Sorry," she said. "Sometimes I let my temper get the best of me…especially when I almost get killed without due reason. I still need to know the truth though. If I'm gonna be living in Chi-town, I need to know what I'm gonna be living around."

"We can't tell you, Miss-" Throttle began. Modo placed his hand on his tan shoulder. Throttle blinked, and turned to look at Modo. "Bro?"

"It's okay, Throttle," Modo interrupted. "She deserves to know after what just happened…besides, it was only a matter of time." Modo turned and looked at Jet. "You promise not to scream when we show you what we look like?"

"Yer worried about that?" Jet snorted. "Modo, I'm from New York. I was born and raised in Queens. I've seen 'n grown up with a lot of ugly people. Whatever ya look like, I promise it will not faze me in the slightest."

_I doubt you've seen anything like us, Jet._ Throttle thought.

"Guys, are you sure you wanna do this?" Charley asked. "I know how you all are about letting other see what you look like."

"Well, I figured it was only a matter of time before we would have to tell her, Charley-girl," Throttle answered. "Besides, Modo trusts her. And she helped us get rid of that walking toxic spill Greasepit." Throttle turned his face to Jet once more. "You promise not to tell ANYONE what you saw?"  
"Yes, I promise. Cross my heart, 'n hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye if I lie," Jet said, making an 'x' on her left breast and covering her right eye with the same hand. "Now are ya gonna take of those helmets of yours, or am I gonna hafta do it myself?"

Jet re-crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her foot on the concrete ground below her. Her eyes narrowed at Throttle's direction with her lips forming a small frown. Throttle let a loud sigh escape his mouth. As much as he was annoyed by Jet's impatient temper, he knew he couldn't escape her curiosity forever. He looked at Modo, who nodded his head in agreement. He looked back at Vinnie, who also nodded in agreement. He then turned his gaze back to Jet. He reached up and grabbed each side of his helmet, his bros following suit. He slowly lifted his light gray helmet off of his head, allowing his locks to tumble down from his head and touch his shoulders. Jet looked at Throttle, then at Vinnie and Modo, who also removed their helmets. She blinked her blue eyes a few times, but her face retained the look of complete serenity. Throttle smiled slightly to himself.

_She's not screaming, or trying to kill us on sight. That's a good sign,_  he thought to himself.

"That's interesting. Three humanoid mice with red antennas." Jet reached behind herself, then grabbed a lid off a trash can from behind her. Her mouth formed a snarl and she charged at them. "NO WAY AM I GONNA BE FUCKING INCUBATOR FOR YOUR BABIES! I'VE SEEN HOW THE MOVE 'ALIEN' ENDS AND IT AIN'T HAPPENING!"

Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo immediately scattered as soon as Jet took a swing at them. She turned and took another swing at Vinnie, who was the closest to her at the time. She gripped tightly onto the thick lid and swung vigorously at his direction multiple times. He moved his body from left to right to avoid her swings, then jumped back slightly to avoid being hit in the face. The sudden movement caused him to lean slightly on his ankle. His body couldn't handle the sudden shift in weight, and he began to topple over. Fortunately for Vincent, he was able to regain his balance to stop himself from falling over. Just as he did, Jet took another swing at him with the trash can lid. However, he was not able to dodge it. Instead, the metal hit him directly in the nose.

"OW!" he screamed, and rubbed his nose. "Easy with the merchandise, Sweetheart! Very delicate stuff I have on me, ya know."

No sooner had Vinnie spoke than Jet began swinging at him again with the lid. Throttle watched the angry New Yorker chase after his white-furred friend. His mind told him to move, but he couldn't get his body to do it. All he could do was stare, his jaw hanging low. He felt a finger touch his chin and press upwards to close his mouth. Breaking out of his reverie, Throttle turned his head to face Modo. Modo jerked his bionic thumb to his right to point at Jet chasing Vinnie around the street.

"Shouldn't we go and help Vinnie?"

"Y-yeah. We should. Guess I spaced out for a moment there." Throttle watched Charley and Andy struggling to hold Jet back as a horrified Vinnie looked onwards.  _Should've known it wasn't gonna be easy with her._

Throttle and Modo stepped between Jet and Vinnie as Charley and Andy continued to try and keep Jet from killing Vinnie with the trash can lid. Throttle knew that trying to get the waitress to calm down would not be an easy task to do. In fact, it looked nearly impossible. Andy was having a hard enough time holding onto Jet's arm to keep her from taking another swing ant Vinnie's face. Charley had both of her arms wrapped around Jet's waist in order to keep her from taking after Vinnie. However, Jet had one of her arms free and was using it to try and pry her arms off of her waist. Throttle knew that as resilient as Charley was, she couldn't hold Jet off forever. He took a step forward, and hoped that he could calm the black-haired woman down.

"Ma'am, please ca-" Before Throttle could finish his sentence, Jet freed her arm from Andy's grasp and took a hit at Throttle with the lid still in her grasp. "OW!" The force of the hit caused Throttle to fall backwards into Modo's arms.  
"Bro! You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Throttle said, rubbing his nose. He slowly pushed himself up and out of Modo's grip. "Man. That woman's dangerous with a lid."

"Let me try," Modo stepped between Throttle and Jet. "Ma'am, it's important that you-"

Before Modo could finish what he was about to say, Jet took her arm, and with the lid still in her grasp, she took a swing at him. However, Modo's flesh hand caught the lid just inches from his face. Jet struggled to remove the lid from his grasp, but Modo's grip and stature did not budge even in the slightest. He moved his bionic arm to take the lid from his flesh hand's grasp. In doing so, the movement caused Jet's body to jerk to her left. The further Modo moved the lid to her left, the harder she had being able to keep her grip on the discus. Eventually, Jet was forced to let go of the round contraption. Modo's metal hand formed a fist, crushing the lid in his hand. The sound of metal crushing metal was the only sound heard on that street. He had his flesh arm join in crushing the metal object until the lid became a medium-sized ball. He tossed it left of his shoulder into the trash can, where it hit the interior walls until settling into the bottom. Jet watched the metal object fall into the trash bin, her eyes wide and jaw open and hanging low. She slowly turned her head back to face Modo, her eyes still wide and her jaw still hanging. Modo pressed the index finger of his flesh hand to her chin and slowly closed her mouth.

"You're gonna catch flies if ya keep your mouth open like that, Miss Jet," Modo said.

Everyone chuckled at Modo's remark. Jet's shocked expression quickly turned into a frown and she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Glad all of ya are havin' fun at my expense."

_Well, at least she calmed down A little._  Throttle stopped laughing and stepped between Modo and Jet. "Believe us on this, Jet: We're no fans of sex that is in no way consensual to both parties."

"And give me a little more credit, Sweetheart: I at least like to treat a gal to one date before trying to make my way into her pants." Vinnie waggled his eyebrows at Jet. "Though I'm sorry to say, the honor of that I'm bestowing on another lovely human." Vinnie smirked arrogantly and wrapped his left arm around Charley's shoulders, then looked back at Jet. "Don't worry. You'll get over me."

"Vinnie, you have five seconds to get your arm off me." Charley narrowed her bluish-green eyes at his half-metal face to prove she was serious.

"I like a challenge, Sweetheart." Vinnie wiggled his eyebrows lewdly at Charley's face.

Jet looked back at Modo, as if expecting him to make a comment. He quickly put his hands up in defense.

"My Momma raised me better than that."

"It's true," Throttle nodded. "Now that woman's wrath you do not want to provoke." Throttle paused for a moment. "And just for the record I'm with someone already."

Jet turned her attention back to Vinnie and Charley and watched Charley pinch Vinnie's fingers and him howling in pain as she pulled his arm off her person, then bent his arm to behind his back. Everyone burst out into laughter at Vinnie's misfortune while Charley kept a tight grip on his fingers and wrist. Charley smiled innocently.

"Well, can't say I didn't warn him."

Throttle was the first to recover from his laughing fit. If there was one thing that Charley was better at than fixing motorcycles, it was making sure Vinnie suffered for his eternal foot in mouth syndrome. He watched Jet, who was slowly recovering from her giggling. The irritated frown on her face was gone, replaced with a wide smile. She wiped away small tears, resulted from her laughing so hard.

"Is he always like this?"

"No, ma'am. Usually Vincent's an idiot who says the wrong thing at the wrong time."  
"His brain's missing a filter to know what to and not to say, but really-he's not so bad when you get to know him. Most of what he says is just a load of hot air." Modo chuckled. "We're sorry if we scared you like that, ma'a-"

Modo stopped speaking when Jet stared at him. Throttle looked at Jet's face, then at Modo's. Jet's face was suddenly devoid of any emotion when she looked at his taller bro. Modo blinked his working red eye a few times, then looked at her in puzzlement. Throttle himself couldn't help but feel confused too. What was going on in Jet's mind? As he took a step forward to confront Jet, she reached out with both of her arms to Modo's head. The fingertips of each hand pinched the tips of Modo's ears. Before Throttle, Modo, or anyone else could react, Jet started tweaking and playing with the gray-furred mouse's ears. A crimson red blush gradually appeared on his face. The corner of his red eye slowly wondered to his right until he was gazing at Throttle's face. His face had the look of a mix of embarrassment, timidity, and fear. He gulped nervously.

"Uhh….Throttle? Can I get some help here please?" Modo begged.

However, Throttle was not able to help his gray-furred friend. The site of Modo being helpless as a smaller woman was playing with his ears was too amusing for him to resist. A snort escaped his mouth, which he tried to cover up with his gloved hand. Charley was trying to fight down a giggle, which she failed to suppress. Andy himself was laughing as well. Vinnie was already doubling over, howling with laughter at Modo's plight. Finding himself unable to hold it in any longer, Throttle burst out laughing and doubling over himself. He wrapped his arms around his waist in hopes of keeping his stomach from feeling pain from the amusing event.

"Glad to know someone's enjoying himself," Modo replied in a monotone voice.

"Now you know how I felt earlier," Jet commented. "Besides, I couldn't resist. There was something about your ears that said 'Play with me! Play with me!'"

"Well, now that we got all that out of our systems..." Throttle was the first to recover from his laughing fit. "I'm sorry we scared you earlier."

"Sorry about the lid on the nose incident. You okay? I hit ya pretty hard, I think."

_I was hoping she wouldn't remind me._  Throttle frowned. "Let's never speak of that again."

"Good idea," Jet agreed. "Anyways, why are you here? When did you get here? Anyone else know of your existence?" Jet reached out to touch Throttle's antennas. "And what's the deal with these antennas? Are they there for decoration, or do they have some sort of purpose?"

"First, please don't touch my antenna. They're very sensitive." Throttle gently grabbed Jet's hand and lowered it back to her waistline. "Thank you. Second of all, it's a long story. A very, very long story."

"Trust me, fuzzball. I got time."

"For some reason, I'm not surprised to hear that." Throttle adjusted his glasses and looked at Jet. "Well for one thing we're from Mars and-" Throttle paused. "You know, it might just save us some time if I show you," he explained and pointed to his antennae.

"Show me?" Jet blinked. "You mean you can use those to read minds and transfer thoughts? Are you a Vulcan or something?"

"No, we-" Throttle paused. "…A Vulcan?"  _Oh Great. A Star Trek fangirl._ Throttle narrowed his eyes at Jet from behind glasses.

"Oh fantastic. A  _Star Trek_ reference," Vinnie grunted. "What's next: we get compared to Daleks?"

"For someone who doesn't like  _Star Trek_ , I'm surprised you know enough to get the reference to them and to  _Doctor Who_ ," Andy commended, who in turn made Vinnie splutter as Charley just smirked at him.

"I-I was flipping channels and nothing else was on!"

"Denying it only makes it more obvious, Vincent," Andy smiled innocently to which Vinnie looked at the ground to avoid looking embarrassed.

"No, Jet-ma'am. It doesn't work that way," Modo smiled to reassure her. Now was not the time to tease Vinnie-that would come later. "We Martians can use our antennae to transfer memories and emotions, but no Martian can read people's minds or control them. Your privacy and personal freedom will be respected."

"Throttle's used them on me a few times before," Charley confirmed. "It doesn't hurt. Really."

"…will it hurt him?"

"No," Throttle confirmed. "Done it enough times."

Jet paused for a moment to consider, then nodded and closed her eyes. Throttle activated his antennae, then bent down to have them brush her head. Fortunately he did not have to bend far down as she came up to the bottom of his ears. He transferred everything that happened from the beginning of the Invasion, his Bros travels throughout the galaxy when they got taken off Mars, their journey to return home, their crashlanding into Chicago, meeting Charley, discovering Plutarkian activity occurring on Earth, and everything else that had occurred during the past few years. He tried to keep the information to the bare minimum as to not overwhelm her-she had already experienced enough that day and did not want to shoulder her with more. When he was certain he showed her all she needed, he stood up and watched her expectedly. Jet blinked a few times, as if to process everything that had just happened.

"W-wow. That was…an experience to say the least."  
"You feeling alright, Jet?" Andy asked, a hand on her shoulder. "The first time I had that done to me I felt dizzy…then again I am an old man," he joked trying to make light of the situation.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm alright," Jet smiled. "So you guys are soldiers caught up in an intergalactic war and now defending us to make sure what happened on Mars doesn't happen here." Jet paused. "Forget the original  _Star Trek_. This is like  _Terminator_  meets  _Deep Space Nine_!"

"… _Terminator_?" Throttle blinked.

"A movie," Jet answered, looking at him as if he sprouted a second head. "Minus the whole time travel bit. But basically it involves traveling to stop one future from happening…though in Terminator it started out as an assassination attempt before the killer got emotionally attached to his target."

Throttle groaned inwardly and pressed his hand to his head. It was bad enough that Jet was an impatient woman with the bedside manner of a cactus and grace of a WWF wrestler, but she was also a science fiction fangirl. Weren't there age limits on someone's fascination with stuff like this? Throttle felt Modo patting his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

"I'd like to think we'd make a better storyline than some giant robot assassin going from wanting to kill a kid to being his protector. Though the whole 'Heroes' bit sums us up perfectly, Sweetheart. Just ask Charley girl when we met and rescued her from that oi-"

"Excuse me!" Charley butted in, and tugged on Vinnie's ear. "Don't talk about me like I'm some garden variety damsel in distress! I was NOT at Greasepit's mercy. You guys just intervened right before I could regain my footing and throw him out of my garage. And besides, I was NOT helpless. I managed to fight him off…for a while, at least."

Vinnie gave a small chuckle and wrapped an arm around Charley's shoulders. "Good thing I was there to save ya, huh, Doll?"

"Last I checked, you falling on your furry ass and sliding to the wall on a puddle of grease 'saving' me."

"So you were checking me out then?" Vinnie smiled arrogantly and flexed his arms. "Can't say I blame ya."

"Vinnie, do you even listen to half the stuff you say?"

"Usually I can only look at myself, Sweetheart." Vinnie smirked. "The complete Vinnie van Wham package is just too overwhelming."  
"Personally I think the package should be shipped back for a refund," Throttle joked.

"Hey!"

"I think he's past the expiration date, Bro," Modo smirked.  
"Hey!"

Charley turned around to face Vinnie and smiled sweetly at him. "Yes, Vinnie. Horses eat hay. Now, what's two plus two?"

Vinnie clenched his fists into tight balls and gritted his teeth. Everyone burst into laughter at the younger white-furred mouse. When Throttle finished laughing, he saw Vinnie fold his arms across his chest and grumble incoherent sayings under his breath. He could tell that Vinnie was mad. However, the frown on his younger bro's face suggested that he was more than just annoyed. He seemed both angry and insulted. As though his very intelligence was questioned. Vinnie let a snort escape from his snout. But suddenly, his frown turned into a small smile.

"I have a better question. What are those things on your underarms?"  
"What things?" Charley lifted up one of her arms to look for what Vinnie had mentioned.  
"These things!"

With that, Vinnie stuck his hands underneath Charley's underarms. His fingers moved vigorously against Charley's shirt-covered skin. A shriek escaped her lips, laughter following afterwards. She tried to leave Vinnie's attack, but he wrapped his long tail around her waist to prevent her from escaping. He wrapped his left arm above her chest to keep her from moving more. The fingers of his left arm continued to run vigorously underneath Charley's right underarm while his right arm worked her left side. His laughter mingled with her own, followed by him demanding her to surrender. Charley managed to hiccup a refusal for his offer, which resulted in Vinnie moving his fingers even more swiftly. Throttle shook his head and turned around slightly. When he did, he noticed Modo, Jet, and Andy laughing themselves. Jet was the first to recover from her laughing fit and looked at Throttle.

"Anyways, I still have more questions to ask," Jet said. "What's the deal with that big oily oaf and those guys? Why haven't you tried to get back to your home world? Is there any Plutarkian involvement here on Earth? And what did that big lummox want with that kid?"

"First-that "oily oaf" was Greasepit. He's the head of Limburger's goon army. And before you ask, I don't know why he would keep someone as dumb as him around. Maybe because he doesn't have to pay him or something. Second, there is Plutarkian activity. Lawrence Limburger. He's a Plutarkian in the disguise of a human, who has Chicago in the palm of his hand almost. We're the only ones that really know his true intentions here. Third, we can't go back to our world until we capture Limburger and can bring him back to trial. Fourth…I have no idea."

"…okay, fair enough." Jet held up her hands in surrender. "Your mission, you do it how you think it should go."

Even though Jet ended her barrage of questions, Throttle couldn't help but feel like Jet was questioning his choices. As Throttle opened his mouth to make a comment, he felt something wet touch his left shoulder. He looked down, and saw a drop of water sink into his tan-colored hair on his arm, making that spot look darker. He felt more and more wet drops touch his body. When he looked up at, he saw dark gray clouds covering the once blue sky. Gradually, the droplets continued to fall until the rain fell steadily onto the streets. The rainwater dampened through his hair, causing it to cover the front of his shades halfway. The droplets darkened the fur on his arms and ran down his leather vest. He frowned and let an irritated sigh escape him.

"Oh, great. Rain."

"Nothing worse than the smell of three wet mice," Charley added, who had broke free from Vinnie's tickling rampage.

Vinnie blinked and turned to face the auburn-haired mechanic. "I thought it was wet dog."

"In your case, there's not much difference."

Vinnie made an attempt to wrap his arms around Charley to resume his tickling assault on her. However, the lady mechanic woman seemed to have sensed his intention to attack her. As Vinnie towered over Charley to resume, she slowly shifted over to her left. When she did, Vinnie lost his balance and fell to the wet concrete ground, face first. Everyone burst into laughter as Vinnie slowly pushed himself off from the ground and wiped the loose pebbles off his face. He spat a few stones out of his mouth and onto the ground. He wiped his mouth, frowned at everyone, then looked up at the raining sky.

"Why do these klutzy moments always happen to me?"  
"If they didn't, it wouldn't be a normal day," Throttle joked. He saw Vinnie sticking his tongue out at him, but he chose to ignore it. "We'd better get out of here before the rain gets harder and drowns us."

Modo groaned miserably. "I know I was overdue for a bath, but this not how I wanted to be reminded."

Jet smiled at the large gray-furred mouse sympathetically and patted him on the back of his left shoulder. Modo turned back to face her and gave her a dumb smile. Throttle rolled his eyes behind his green-tinted glasses. Even though it was funny to see his bigger bro looking dumb at the sight of a woman, it was not needed at that time. He grabbed Modo by the top of his ear and gently tugged the giant mouse forward.

"Come on, Cassanova. We're going."

"Ow!" Modo yelled. "Sensitive cartilage, Bro!"

Modo's cry went unheard as Throttle dragged him back to their motorcycles. Throttle swung his leg over Lady and sat down. As he activated the yellow visor for his helmet, he looked around the area. The rain gradually came down harder and harder, then a breeze began to pick up. Fortunately for him, he barely felt anything from the wind because of his furry body. As he revved up his motorcycle's engine, Throttle faintly heard Charley complaining about the sudden storm, Vinnie not-so-innocently saying he could keep her warm, followed by a yelping sound. He guessed she pinched his cheek. Throttle smiled slightly to himself as Vinnie yelped in pain. He could always count on his younger brother for his immature, perverted behavior to brighten the mood. Or to at least cut the tension.

However, he couldn't help but ponder over the incident from earlier. What was that young girl from earlier carrying with her? He wanted to head in the direction she ran away in and track her down. However, unlike with Modo, his reasons were more concerned about her connection to Limburger than her safety. Not that he wasn't concerned if she was okay or not, because he was. But there was more going on, and he was sure she had some part in it, or at least heard something or Limburger wouldn't have tried to have her killed. Perhaps she was a messenger working for Limburger needed? Throttle shook his mind of that thought. If Limburger needed important documents, he and whoever was working for him wouldn't trust such important items in the hands of a thirteen to sixteen year old girl. Even if she was used as a delivery person, it would make no sense for Limburger to send Greasepit out to kill her. Unless there was a disagreement on payment and he decided to kill her instead of paying her. That would have been a possible reason for him to want to kill Danny. Or perhaps Danny's family had caught on to Limburger's secret and he decided to kill her to prevent them from doing anything to stop him…

_Yeah right._  Throttle thought.  _And Greasepit's a modern-day Albert Einstein._

Throttle tried to figure out what Limburger would want with her. He thought over all other possibilities. It seemed unlikely she was a delivery girl sent to him, and it was even more unlikely that her family caught on to his true reasons for being in Chicago. There were no other possibilities for him to consider, unless Danny was where Limburger was at the wrong time. That was the most likely reason. Danny probably overheard Limburger saying something to Greasepit, and ordered her killed to prevent her from ever finding them and telling him and his bros. All he knew for sure was that Dany needed to be found. He needed answers to questions that he didn't know. Even if she didn't know anything, at least she would be safe with him and his bros. At the very least, that would make Modo happy.

_Problem is…where would she be? Her home? A friend's home? Where would I go if I was in her place?_

Throttle pondered over more logical explanations as he and everyone else made their way to the garage.

* * *

_**A/N: I know, not much action. I figured some comedy was in order. Don't worry. There'll be more action soon.** _


	6. Chapter 6

The sun eventually set on the Windy City not that anyone could see the sun behind the tall skyscrapers on the western part of the city. Storm clouds rapidly darkened the sky faster than the setting sun ever could.. The only sources of light were the tall street lamps, scarce as they were. Some were minus the glass shields that covered the bulbs, and some did not have light bulbs at all. The street lamps that did work faintly highlighted the raindrops that were falling from the sky. The rain gradually continued pouring down from the sky and began to fall down harder and harder. Eventually, the streets were soaked from the rainwater, puddles forming along the corners of various streets, some becoming so large they resembled miniature lakes. Many cars and trucks drove on the water-filled streets and splashed miniature waves on the sidewalks next to them.

Danny stood on one of those sidewalks and felt the dirty rain water splash against her legs. The force of the sudden wave caused her to lose her balance and fall onto the wet sidewalk. She felt the water on the sidewalk soak through her jeans during the moment she had fallen on her butt. Danny quickly stood back up once more and wiped the bits of wet gravel off the back of her jeans. Looking around for a temporary shelter from the rain, Danny spotted a nearby concrete building with miniature cracks on its front. Above it was a tin roof, slanted so that the rain water would run down it and not on the ground below it. Danny quickly rushed right over to the tin roof for temporary shelter. She pressed her back against the wall and paused to regain her breath. A strong wind picked up in the west and blew across from her, causing her to shiver from the chill and wrap her arms around herself to try and ward off the cold. This was a futile effort as her sweatshirt was already soaked from the rain and could not offer any warmth.

Danny shivered even more as she became colder. Sinking onto the pavement below, she pulled herself into a ball, wrapping her arms around her legs and leaning forward in an attempt to keep herself warm. Danny shivered more as the wind began to pick up. She then remembered that her sweatshirt was wet from the rain. She pushed the sleeves up to her elbows, and then realized that it wouldn't keep the chill out of her body. Idly, she dug her hands into her pockets and she felt a small tube inside one of her pockets. Curious, she pulled it out and remembered: it was the cigarette which Raquelle had given her earlier that morning. Not that it would matter: she had no lighter, and the cigarette was soaked all over so she would not be able to get a light going. Danny threw the useless cigarette onto the concrete across from her feet, hugging her legs to her chest. She then felt her stomach rumble, then dug into her backpack remembering the second stolen chili cheeseburger she saved from earlier. She pulled it out…only to see the rainwater had soaked her bag all the way through. The bread was wet and broken apart, and the meat, chili and cheese slid out from the bun and onto the ground by her shoes.

 _Well, this is just great_ , she thought bitterly.  _I'm cold, wet, hungry, broke, my bike is gone, and I'm nowhere near Quiggley Field._   _My only cigarette is destroyed. And to top it off, my cheek feels like it's on fire! But where do I go? I can't go back…Keith will know by now what I did, and he'll definitely beat the shit out of me. Maybe even kill me. And Raquel will just stand there and watch, all out of it and everything. I dunno how my day can get any worse._

Dannt sniffed and vigorously wiped her eyes. She would not cry. No matter what happened, no one would get the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Not even herself.

 _Get a grip, Danny. You're not weak. Tears mean weakness. And you're not weak._ She pressed her hands on the cold and dirty alley floor and slowly stood up.  _I can't stay here forever…if I can't make it to Quiggley Field by the end of the day, then I should at least find a place where I can dry off and get warm. Maybe find something to eat….then look for shelter. Maybe I can bunk with Chucho or Andre tonight…no; those're probably the first places Keith would think to look for me. And they're terrified of him. Can't say I blame them._

Danny started walking again, moving her feet one step at a time. The water-soaked denim material of her jeans clung to her legs, making movement difficult for her, and also started making her legs itch. Danielle knelt down and vigorously ran her fingers along her calves to stop her itching, but vigorously rubbing the denim material wasn't working. The only way to get it to stop would be to remove her clothing, but it wasn't like she had a spare change of clothes with her. Or even an umbrella. Trying to get to Quigley Field was a complete bust. With everything that had happened—trying to duck out on potential attackers and hiding from people who wanted to kill her—Danny had gotten turned around so much she no longer knew what direction went where. That wasn't entirely true-she knew the streets well. She grew up in them after all; even lived on the streets for some time. But that didn't make trying to find her way back to the right path less tedious for her.

While walking, Danny looked at her right hand. For a moment, she stared at the vertical red line, and a third started at the other side, connecting diagonally upwards until it touched her third knuckle. She stared at the mark, otherwise the worker insignia Keith had used to mark Danielle as property of the drug cartel he supervised for his superior. That she was his to do what he wanted: push drugs, do menial tasks he deemed unfit for himself…beat and kick around when he felt like it.

 _This mark lets the drug dealers know I'm Keith's property._ She sighed to herself once more, then paused.  _Wait…that "shipment" Raquelle talked about_.  _Maybe that "ship" sis was going on about is doing is connected to Limburger the Hutt, and was part of that business operation he was talking about! Maybe Limburger's hustling in on the drug racket?_ Danny shook her head.  _No, that can't be it. But if not that…then what?_

"Hey! You there!"

Danny stopped in midstep, her eyes widening like saucers. As she did, she felt a hand grab her shoulder. Did that walking oil refinery find her? Was it another of those thugs that worked for Limburger? She slowly turned her head, her hand clenched into a fist in preparation for an attack. When she turned, she saw a male figure wearing a hooded black jacket and dark blue jeans. He pulled the hood down, revealing a thick head of black hair. It wasn't one of Limburger's thugs, or even the head thug Greasepit, but at that moment, Danny wished it was one of them.

"You're late," the man grunted. "Hours late. You were supposed to come by here earlier in the afternoon. What happened-did you get mugged and tossed into a garbage pail or something?"

"Uhh…kinda sorta," Danny twiddled her fingers. She didn't know why, but she was absolutely terrified at that exact moment. "A rival gang caught up with me and wanted to make me an example of Keith 'stepping in their turf' or something like that, and they destroyed my bike while I was running for my life. Had no money for bus or subway, so I walked all the way here."

"So that's why you smell like smoke, sweat and garbage." The man snorted, then turned his head and spat on the sidewalk. "Well whatever the reason, you got no excuses for dumping your work. The boss isn't happy with what you did. He's pissed at Keith…and you know Keith is pissed at you. No doubt this won't look good for the K-man if he wants to take over when the head man steps down. He's got a few choice words for you…looks like you're the new 'example' for the other pushers tonight."

 _Great,_  Dannny thought to herself.  _I guess I got more bruises and burns to look forward too tonight…maybe a cracked rib or broken arm if he's pissed off enough._

Danny followed the gruff man to where he was supposed to take her. After a few minutes of walking, they came to a stairway leading down to a cellar. The concrete stairway was chipped at the corners of every other step, with cracks alternating between each step. The bottom of the stairway had a small puddle of water, which would be ankle deep if anyone were to stand in it. The doorway was a dark olive green color, with a single light bulb as the only light source there. It wouldn't have been so bad if the light bulb hadn't been flickering on and off intermittently and the doorway had been more visible.

Danny slowly stood up the rest of the way and began her descent down the concrete stairs. When she reached the bottom step, she wiped her wet feet on the mat. She thought this was a ridiculous rule the workplace enforced. Even if one scraped each inch of his or her shoe on the mat for an hour, dirt would still find a way to enter the building. The workplace was never the cleanest building in the city district. With the rain pounding the city streets, there would be no point in wiping one's feet outside. She looked down, and saw the area between the stairs and the door forming a miniature puddle. She frowned to herself as she stepped inside.

 _They need put a drain here._  Danielle shook each leg before she stepped inside.  _This place could turn into a koi pond with an hour or two more and some fish._

Danny stepped inside after the man and he closed the door behind her. When the door closed, something large landed with a loud "THUD" at her feet. Danielle screeched and jumped to the side to avoid being hit. She looked at the wooden floor to see what had fallen at her feet. A bald man dressed in a black muscle shirt and jeans covered with dirt and rips laid at the toes of her shoes. A small trickle of drool trickled out from the corner of his mouth, forming a small puddle around his face. Danielle scrunched her face in disgust.

_Oh joy…a saliva swimming pool in the works._

"Get moving Brat!"

The man pushed Danny forward, past the passed out drunk and the individuals who were weighing the meth and wrapping it in plain paper to avoid being detectable. This was one of the places where the dealers would come to pick up the meth they were to sell to addicts and users when it was safe to come around. Since having a single location was not sensible, they would alternate between different stations in order to avoid being detected by police officers. After being weighed and being sure they had the right amount, the dealers would pick up the shipment and provide it to those who were in need of meth. It was not hard to find customers and get them to buy; anyone would sell anything in their possession just to enjoy the rush only meth could bring them. Danny was all too familiar with that rush. Not from the meth, but seeing people use them. For some reason, the thought of using did not appeal to her. Part of it was because Keith made it clear she was to keep her hands off it as it was for the users only. Not for her well-being; it was already made clear he didn't care about her at all. He just did not want to lose any meth without it being accounted for financially. And if she got hooked on it, there would be less for other dealers, and by extension, potential customers. That, and if she was caught he wanted to make sure she was not addicted so it would be harder for the cops to connect her to him.

The thug who found Danny pushed her into one of the rooms where they kept cleaning supplies on hand to clean up all the traces of meth once they were done with work.

"The boss is taking care of some business right now. He'll be with you shortly." He paused. "Oh, and Keith is on his way here too…so I'd be thinking of some good thoughts to help you space out when the beat down begins."

With that, the thug closed the door. There was no locking sound, but Danny knew there was no point in trying to get out. Not when he just pushed her in.

 _Fuck my life._  Danielle moped as she sank onto the ground below.  _I know in the comics the hero or heroine has to go through a lot of crap before things finally get better…but haven't I gone through enough these past near fifteen years? Especially today?_ She sighed to herself. _I was so close…so close! So close to getting out of here. So close to making a new start…so close to my dreams coming true. If this were one of my comics I'd keep reading to find out what's gonna happen in the end…but it's happening to me, so I don't know if I wanna know how it's gonna keep going. Because I dunno if I'd survive for future issues._

* * *

Greasepit pulled his spare green chopper bike to a stop at the side of a concrete building. After climbing off his bike, he shook vigorously like a dog in an attempt to get the rainwater off of his body. However, this only caused large splotches of grease to splash onto the street and concrete wall beside him. The rain continued to splash onto his body, making his overalls stick to his body and causing him to frown. He went to the back of his chopper bike and and pulled out a black leather bag. It was as light as a feather to him, even though he knew some people would complain it to be heavy. Leaning against the concrete wall, he spotted three dune buggies pulling up behind his bike. He rolled his eyes. He could never figure out why they would always take forever to keep up with him. It wasn't as if he went faster than them…or did he? Greasepit shrugged the thought off. He watched the drivers stop at the curb and climb out of their dune buggies.

"Okay, youse goons. Dis is how it's gonna go. We's go in, gives da head honcho is moolah, grabs what da boss wants, 'n goes back to Mister Limboiger. In 'n out, dats it. Den afterwards, wes go find dat brat 'n silence hers for good. Do any 'a youse have questions?" They all shook their heads no. "Good. Let's move it, youse goons!"

As Greasepit took the first step, one of his feet came into contact with a grease puddle under him. He immediately lost his balance and began to slide forward. He screeched in fear just before he slammed into a wall. Pain shot through him as his body made contact with the wall and cracked under his weight. He struggled to push himself off, with little success. Slipping again, he tumbled down the stairs, hitting his head and back multiple times until he finally reached the bottom, landing with a splash in the puddle that had formed there, soaking him even more. He sulked for a moment. It was bad enough that he was clumsy in regular weather, but falling in water was even more humiliating. He pressed his palms into the miniature pond and slowly attempted to push himself up. However, just as he was halfway up, he heard men screaming and falling down the stairs. He frowned to himself.

_I knows where dis is goin'._

Suddenly, a heavy weight fell on his body, followed by a grunt of pain. More and more weight fell onto Greasepit's body, with more grunts of pain following. Eventually, his entire body was covered with various male bodies. Greasepit frowned to himself. Even though he outweighed all of them combined, it was still an annoyance to be under the weight of his subordinates.

_Mister Limburger needs to pay me ta pud up wid dis._

Greasepit pushed himself back up with ease, causing his goons to fall off of him and into the puddle with that motion. There was a large splash of water against the back of his legs, but Greasepit was unaffected due to his large stature and bodyweight. Leaning down, he tried to squeeze the excess water out of his overalls while waiting for his goons to get back up. He felt no reason to help them up at all. It was their own fault that they had fell onto the water. He brushed off the rain droplets that were on his bare arms, forgetting that there was no point: it was still raining. However, Greasepit did not bother to think the matter over. He had been taught that thinking was a waste of energy. And it was never his strong suit. Yet if that was the case, why was his boss always mad at him for "not thinking things over"? He shrugged off the thought; thinking was never his strongpoint. He turned around and opened the door to the bar. He walked past the bar area and into a room in the back.

After he had walked a few steps inside, he up to a wooden door. It was a dirt-brown color, and looked easy to break into. In the top center of the door was a rectangular cut. Greasepit curled his fist into a ball and lightly knocked on the door. When he did, the rectangular cut on the door slid to his right. For a moment, a pitch-black color filled the hole. Then a pair of black eyes took the blackness' place.

"Password" the carrier of the eyes said in a monotone voice.

Greasepit paused for a moment, trying to remember the password. His mind wandered into different areas trying to recover the forgotten password. Was a password even needed? Or did he just simply forget? The man behind the door was probably only saying that a password was needed to throw him off guard. He rubbed his chin to try and remember. He blinked, finally remembering something. He quickly turned to face his goons. He had to work fast, or else he would forget again. He turned his head and looked at his goons.

"Youse goons cover your ears." He waited for them to do so. "Now, can youse all hear me?"  
  
"No," they all answered in unison.

"Good." Greasepit turned his attention back to the open rectangular hole on the door. "Head Cheese."

"Password accepted."

With that, the rectangular hole closed. Greasepit blinked and scratched his cap-covered head. Was he wrong about the password? He could not remember. He could not even remember what he had just aid a moment ago. Suddenly, he heard a loud creaking noise. He jumped back slightly, startled. Then the door gradually opened for him. Greasepit regained his composure and slowly entered the place. Even though he had entered the room on previous occasions, he could never get over the loud creaking noise. He took one step forward, then another until he was inside. The room was dimly lit, so he could not fully make-out the room. However, he was vaguely able to make out a desk and a portly-sized man sitting behind it. He squinted his eyes to try and see the room better. Suddenly, a bright light was lit up on his left side. Greasepit brought his right arm up to shield his face from the sudden brightness. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and he lowered his arm. When he did, he gazed at the man sitting behind the desk.

The man was large and wide, almost like Lawrence Limburger himself. However, there were distinct differences between Limburger and the man at the desk. The man was slightly smaller than his osteichythes-like superior in height. He head was completely bald, minus a few stray hairs here and there. The eyes on his face were black and beady, and the bulges on his cheeks were much larger. He almost looked like a walrus without the long front teeth. Under the many rolls that Greasepit assumed was part of his neck, the bald man had a large gem in the center of his blue tie, and a dark navy business suit covering his black dress shirt.

"Did you come with the…stuff?" the man asked in a hoarse, whisper-like voice.

"Huh? What…stuff?"

"You know. The…goods?"

"I's not following," Greasepit said, scratching the top of his head. What was the man talking about?  
  
"The money, you idiot!" The bald man stood up as he shouted, knocking his chair over and slamming his ham-sized fists on the desk. "Did you bring the damn money, yes or no!?"

"Oh. Oh!" Greasepit nodded. How could he have forgotten so soon? "Of course I's did." Greasepit snapped his fingers, and a bald, plus-sized goon next to him plopped a giant purse with bills sticking out on the desk. "Is all yours…but where're da you-know-whats ya promised?"

"In back," he answered. "Though, I am curious. Why is pick up so important to your employer? And why not come himself?"

"Dat is da bosses' reasons alone," Greasepit answered. "And…he's won't tell me."

"Well, whatever his reasons are is of no concern of mine." The stout man took the giant purse and set it by his feet. "As long as I am paid well 'n full, what you do with the merchandise is not my problem."  
  
" 'N Mister Limburger wouldn't has it any oder ways…'n why I's dunno."

"Well, it's not my business. Speak to my associate by the bar, as usual. He'll lead you in the back for your pick-ups."

"Wills do."  _Dis man is really a stupid one. He doesn't know he's getting' fake monies._

Greasepit turned on his heels and began to leave. However, when he took the first step, Greasepit lost his footing on a puddle of his own body grease. He screamed as he failed to keep his balance and landed on his rear. However, instead of stopping, he slid into a wooden door. Under normal circumstances, a person would just slam against the door and stop right there. However, due to Greasepit's inhuman size and strength, he broke right through the door and continued to slide out.

"MAAAMMMMAAA! MAKE IT STOP!" Greasepit whined.

Fortunately, Greasepit's body did come to a stop. Just as it seemed that his body would never stop moving, he saw a door creep open and a body slip out. His body collided with that particular person. When his oily flesh collided with another body contact, his front toppled over onto the hard ground below. He landed with a loud "thud" on his chin. While the event would greatly injure a normal individual, Greasepit barely felt anything. However, while could not feel any pain from his incident, he did feel an emotion: annoyance.

_Dis is REALLY irritatin' me!_

"Hey! Get off me, ya big doofus!"

Greasepit blinked twice when he heard a gruff yet high-pitched voice yelling at him. He paused for a moment as the voice sank into his mind. The voice, that high-pitched female voice, sounded oddly familiar to him. But who was the carrier of that memorable voice? He slowly rose up from the ground to look for the person who had yelled at him that brief moment ago. When he turned around to see who had yelled at him, he saw no one in front of him. He looked down on the ground, and saw a small and thin female figure sprawled out on the floor. She was wearing a dark blue sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and denim blue jeans that looked as though they were doing to come apart at any second. Her hair was long, black, disheveled and uneven. He grabbed her by her sweatshirt and lifted her up. When he did, he noticed that her eyes were a dark brown. She looked at him, and her eyes widened like saucers.

"You!" She shouted.

"You!" He shouted back. He recognized her. He knew he did! "You'se…." Greasepit blinked and tilted his head to the side. "Youse look very familiars to me. Has we met?"

"Umm, boss?" One goon scratched his head. "I may be wrong, but I think that kid's the one we were hunting down earlier."

"Huh?" Greasepit leaned in closer to the young girl's face until his nose almost touched her own. She cringed and tilted her head to the side. However, he had enough of a view of her to confirm what his goon had said. "Youse ARE her!" He snickered. "Well, youse saved me's a lotta trouble looking for yas. I get to get rida's two birds wid one stone. Da Boss will be VERY pleased wid's me!"

Just as Greasepit finished what he had to say, Danny arched her head back slightly and released a large ball of saliva straight at his face. As the liquid ball came into contact with his eyes, Greasepit shrieked in pain and dropped Danielle on to the floor below and covered his eye with both of his hands. The stinging pain from her saliva was too much for him to bear. Before he could react in any other way, he heard the scurrying of footsteps. She was escaping him! Greasepit couldn't afford for that to happen to him!

"Don't just stand around, youse stupid goons!' Greasepit yelled. "Goes after her!"

He heard the scurrying of more footsteps as his men ran out of the underground building to chase down Danielle. As he took a step forward to join them, he slipped and fell on his back once more.

"Ow!" he screamed. Afterwards, he laid there for a while. "Ummmm….can I's get some help up, please?"

* * *

Danny scrambled as fast as she could out of the underground building. Talk about crappy timing! When it seemed like everything had quieted down, she took it as a sign she could sneak out. If she was going to go down, then she could at least savor the fact that she didn't take it lying down and fought to the bitter end. But just her luck, she had to run into the human oil factory. And now she was running for her life. AGAIN. Why? Why was all of this happening at once? Did the universe just have a sick fetish for torturing low born teenage girls? This was the second time in one day she was being hunted down!

The force of the falling rain had increased during the time that she was inside. As she ran, she kicked up more water from on the ground. Her pants, which were somewhat dry during her time inside, become soaked once more from the rain and the various puddles. As she ran, her head began to throb in pain. The squeaking of her broken tennis shoes echoed instead her mind, gradually becoming louder and louder. Slowly, the sounds of her squeaking tennis shoes were replaced by the vigorous stampeding of leather boots against the concrete ground. When Danielle turned her head to look behind her, she saw a fair-sized group of goons running after her. One large-built one pulled a long chain from his pant pockets and swirled it in the air as if it were a lasso. Danny turned her head back to her front. As she did, she saw a metal gate in front, cutting her off from the other side of the alley.

 _Well, this is bringing back fond memories._ She thought sarcastically.

Danny quickly spat on her hands and jumped up. She grabbed on to the metal wiring of the fence and began to climb up. She scrambled as fast as she could up the fence. Danielle did not dare to look back, because she knew what would happen if she did. She did not want to face a group of physically grown men on her own. It was one thing to be in fights with bullies who were one to two years older than her; she knew how to handle high school bullies. It was something completely different to take on adults who had chains, knives, and most importantly, guns. She had barely escaped death already today-she did not want this to be her final day to live.

As Danny lifted her right leg up to climb, she felt something heavy and metal drape over her ankle. Before she could react or do anything else, the loop around her ankle tightened. A sudden force yanked at her leg, causing her to lose her grip on the fence and fall to the ground. She let a loud scream escape from her mouth, the noise echoing off the walls of the nearby buildings. However, nothing happened afterwards. No one came running out from their apartment buildings. No other person made any noises, nor did anyone turn on their room lights and poke their heads out of the windows. The only noises that she could hear were the scraping of her knees against the wet concrete ground, the rattling of chains as she was yanked forward, and the hollering of grown men gradually growing louder. She tried to claw her way to the fence, but the blonde goon's strength was too much for her.

Suddenly, Danny felt the goon give a mighty pull on the chain. The sudden force caused her to briefly rise a few inches above the ground, only to land again with a hard landing. She felt the hard concrete slam against her body once again, sending waves of pain throughout her body. The pain increased as she felt someone grab her by her hair and yank her up. She screamed once more as she felt her back being slammed against a hard brick wall. Pain shot through her body as the hard wall made contact with her wet-clothed skin. Her head felt heavy as she slowly lifted it up to look ahead at her attackers. A various array of goons stood before her. Some of them smacked crowbars on their hands, while others tightened their grip on individual chains. One of them, a heavyset man with a dirty brown beard and sunglasses, grabbed Danny by her face and pinched her cheeks so they came close to touching her mouth. She cringed as she felt his dirty hands squeezing her face. The pinching caused the skin to press against her nostrils. With the pain of his large hand squeezing her face, and the skin around her nostrils, it was becoming almost unbearable for her.

"Mister Limburger wanted us ta kill this kid?" He asked outloud. "Feh. She doesn't seem like much of a threat. But orders are orders."

"How do we kill this twig?" Another asked.

"Let's chain-whip her to death!"

"I say we bash our crowbars against her head."

"Wait," a goon with a blonde beard spoke up. "Doesn't anyone wanna get a piece of heaven before we put her out of her misery?"

"You kidding!? She ain't worth unzipping for!"

"Kill her."

The goons stopped their discussion and all fell silent. When the goon had let go of her face, Danny titled her head to her right to find out who was speaking. While the deep, dim-witted tone of the voice was familiar to her, she wanted to be absolutely sure. When she looked over her attacker's shoulder, her vision was blurred due to the rain and his squeezing her face. She closed her eyes, squinted her face, and opened them once more. When she did, the owner of the voice was whom she had suspected it to be: Greasepit. He marched towards the center, many goons stepping to the side to make room for him. When Danielle got a closer view of him, she widened her eyes. The rain water soaked his body and his overalls, having the material cling to his body. It not only hugged his chest and legs, but in other areas she did not wish to notice. Danielle began to feel nauseous and looked down.

_That…is just wrong on SO many levels!_

"Kill her." Unlike before, his voice had a colder, icier edge in it. It was as if something inside him had snapped, and he became some…different. "Mister Limburger wants her good 'n dead. So do's I."

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, Greasepit lunged his arm forward and grabbed Danny by her neck. She tried to scream out in pain, but the tight grip from his hand prevented her from doing so. The most she could get her throat to muster out was a rasped choke for air. Her eyes watered from the squeezing of her neck, gradually tightening around her. She felt him lift her off the wall, dangling her from mid air. Breathing became even harder for her. As she swallowed the saliva in her mouth, she felt the pain of the liquid going down. Before she could say or do anything more, she heard the sounds of cocking guns, rattling of chains, and fists smacking fists.  
  
"Take aim, goonsies," Greasepit said, a sadistic overtone in his voice. "Fire whens ya wants."

Danny choked back tears as she painfully tried to speak. Even though it was beyond painful for her, even if the chances of someone being able to hear her were slim to none, she felt as though she had to. Perhaps it was the primitive instinct to stay alive as with most human beings, perhaps her own rebellious nature to fight her odds. She did not know the reasons why, but she still fought against the pain surrounding her throat to speak.  
  
"H-help," she choked out.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah...I know; it seems like Danny gets tortured a lot. Don't worry; it leads up to something better. But you must read on to find out how. I know; I'm evil. :)_


	7. Chapter 7

Modo used his left hip to push the door open. He struggled to balance the weight of the many boxes of root beer he was holding and an extra large bag of potato chips. After bringing Charley back to the Last Chance, he and his bros had been searching the city almost the whole day, and they found no sign of Danny. How could it have been so easy to lose track of one human girl? Finding a human teenager with black hair and brown eyes shouldn't have been that difficult! After a while, the rain made it too difficult for all three of them to keep searching. So Throttle gave the order for all three of them to postpone the search until tomorrow when the rain would stop, or at least lighten up. After realizing they were down to three root beers, Modo volunteered to do the root beer run. Throttle made him promise to just pick up the root beer and come straight back to the Scoreboard. So after promising to comply to Throttle's terms, Modo grabbed a large dark blue rain jacket Charley got for him some time last year and took off.

He walked to where he parked his beloved motorcycle, right next to a parking meter one block away from the convenient store. He set the crates of on the sidewalk, then pulled the large cover off Lil' Hoss. He was very careful with what natural elements Lil' Hoss was exposed to. He knew that the rain would not do any damage to his bike, but he did not want to take any chances. He also just recently gave Lil' Hoss a wax job, and he didn't want his hard work to go waste.

"Sorry I took so long," Modo apologized while he tied the crates on the back of Lil' Hoss, the tarp on the bottom. "I hope the rain didn't affect you, darlin'."

Lil' Hoss gave a high pitched beep, followed by a few more. Modo smiled. While his motorcycle could not communicate with him the way a humanoid being could, he could still translate what she would try to say to him through the various honking and beeping noise. It was as if they had a secret language and only the two of them shared. Most Martian mice had a special relationship with their motorcycles; the AI built into their engines ensured that. However, it was different with Modo and Lil' Hoss.

"I'm glad." Modo opened the bag of potato chips and grabbed a handful. He was hungry and needed food in his system. "Come on, let's head back. We both know how cranky Vinnie gets when he doesn't have his rootbeer before bedtime."

Lil' Hoss gave many beeps, which Modo assumed was the equivalent to a laugh. He smiled and wiped his hands on his jeans, then adjusted the rain jacket he was wearing. He revved up his motorcycle's engine. Just as he did, he heard a faint noise. He turned off the engines for a moment, straining his ears to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. Even with his sensitive ears and the ability to pick up noises ten times faster than a human could, some noises he could not distinguish over the sounds of others. He picked up a small, very faint whisper of a voice.  
"H-help…"

_Who's that calling out? The voice sounds so familiar…_ Modo couldn't help but wonder. However, there was no time to wonder who was calling out for him. He quickly grabbed his helmet and inserted it on his head, and activated the protective face shield. "Come on, Lil' Hoss!"

His motorcycle gave a beep of affirmation as he revved up the engine once more. As the engine warmed up, Modo set his helmet on, propped his feet on the footstools on the bike and rode off on the rain-soaked street. As he did, he began to pick up other voices. The words were all jumbled, but they did not sound friendly to his ears. The further down Modo and his bike went, the louder and clearer the voices became. Soon, his bike reached a traffic light. He pulled his bike to a stop on the sidewalk, the voices now crystal clear.  
"Stay on standby, Lil' Hoss," Modo said. He adjusted his arm so that the blaster cannon was propped out. "Hang on to my signal, and come when I call."

Lil' Hoss beeped an affirmative. Modo jumped off the seat and ran inside the alleyway where he heard the voices. He skidded to a halt, rainwater splashing from underneath his boots against the walls. He pointed his canon blaster at the bodies in front of him.

"Stay where you all are!"

Several men dressed in black pants and leather vests turned around instantly. Another one, bald and clad only in a red cap and blue overalls, turned around next. Modo snarled at them, the barrel of his cannon glowing red with his laser. He recognized them: Greasepit and his goons. But why were they in the alleyway, and who were they targeting? It did not matter at that moment; his only concern was having them stop what they were doing. He pointed his arm at Greasepit's forehead. While he did not like the idea of killing in cold blood, he did not mind intimidating him into thinking he would.

"Whatever you're doing, it's ending now!"

"Not one 'a youse again! I still has da bruise from when ya used me as a hackie sack!"

"That was only a warm-up." Modo's working eye began to glow. "This time I'm goin' for a personal best."

"Goonsies! Stop him!"

"But you told us to-" one began.

"Neverminds dat!" he yelled. "Get him first! I'll deal wid da twerp!"

The goons needed no more than that to change their plans. They ran towards Modo, waving chains and crowbars while yelling at the top of their lungs. Modo just stared at them, completely dumbfounded. It was not the number of goons coming after him, or the weapons they were brandishing. He was used to far worse. It was the way they were charging at him; almost as if it came straight from one of those Japanese animation shows he saw the other day.

_Is it just me, or are these goons getting more pathetic everyday?_

Modo grabbed the first goon that ran up to him, large in height and girth. He swung him around in circles as though he was nothing more than a rag doll. He then tossed the man onto the other goons that were charging at him. The bodies collided together, falling down as though they were dominoes. Modo wiped his hands against one anther, satisfied with his work.

_Yup. They're getting more pathetic. Limburger needs to raise his hiring standards._

Greasepit ducked the onslaught of men flying in his direction. The various bodies slammed against the concrete wall, cries of pain emitting from the growing pile as they slowly sank onto the rain-soaked ground. Greasepit looked at his now unconscious army of goons, then back to Modo, his eyes widening and momentarily giving him the appearance of the proverbial deer in the headlights. Modo smiled, which made Greasepit's eyes widened even more, almost to the point it looked as though they would fall out of their sockets. Modo took a step forward, Greasepit backing up as he did so. Eventually, Greasepit was against the wall. Modo noticed the beads of sweat running down his pale skin, mixing with his natural grease and the rainwater splashing on them. He raised his metal arm to Greasepit's forehead. Modo then released a shot from the cannon on his arm. Greasepit yelped and closed his eyes when Modo shot. After a long pause, the giant male opened his eyes, and saw the smoking hole just inches from his ear.  
"I….I's alive. I's….alive…"

Just as Greasepit acknowledge his narrow escape from death, he fainted. Modo pushed the cannon back inside his arm.

_That wasn't as hard as I thought it would be._  Modo looked around.  _But who was it that was calling out for help?_

Modo looked around the alleyway to look for the source of the voice. He saw open dumpsters with rain lightly drizzling inside, Greasepit and his goons piled against the alley wall, and various boxes and pieces of litter on the ground by his feet. Suddenly, he heard a faint coughing noise. He turned his attention back to the dumpsters, where the noise came from. A thin person slowly crawled out from behind, coughing and lightly caressing their throat. Modo deactivated his facial visor to get a better look of his rescued person.

Long and choppy black hair covered the person's face, so he could not get a detailed look at the person. However, there was a physical feature that Modo could recognize from anywhere; red streaks decorating the black hair. The person pulled the black hair, and Modo recognized the dark brown eyes and the arched nose on the person's face. It was her; there was no doubt about it.  
  
"Danny!"

The young girl instantly bolted up when Modo shouted that name. She instantly stood up, only to collapse down on the wet concrete again and grabbed her left knee. Modo quickly rushed over to her side before she could stand up again. She slowly tilted her head upwards, teeth grounded together from what Modo assumed was pain in her leg.

"It's okay, Little Lady. It's me. I was wondering what happened to ya. You okay?" Before Danny could open her mouth to say anything, Modo tilted her head from side to side to examine her face. He saw large red finger marks along her neck, and long gashes on her cheek where it looked like part of her skin was peeled right off. It was clear that Greasepit and his goons had cornered her and were about to kill her, and the gashes were from the diner incident earlier in the afternoon. But why? It made no sense to kill a defenseless teenage girl. Finding out the reasons would have to wait for later, though. "Oh, Danny-girl…"  
  
"They're nothing," she said, brushing his hand off of her face. "Really."

"Don't pull the macho act on me, Little Lady," Modo said firmly, frowning at her. "The only ones allowed to do that are me 'n my Bros." Danny's face remained stoic, and he stopped frowning. "Anyway, can you stand now?"

"Of course I can—oww!" Just as Danny began to stand up, she immediately crouched down again, teeth clenched together.

"Guess not." Modo turned around so that his back faced Danny. "Well, climb on me. I'll take ya back home."

"H-home? You're taking me…b-back there? F-for good?"

Modo blinked, then turned back to face Danny. She had a sad, defeated expression etched on her face. Modo paused for a moment, unsure what to say or do next. It was obvious by the tone of her voice and expression she did not want to go home. He didn't want to send her back either. It didn't feel right, not after everything that happened. Danny was almost killed by Limburger's thug army two times in one day—something that was almost an everyday occurrence for him and his bros, but not for a teenage civilian. And he couldn't shake the feeling that she would be in even more danger back at her place. Limburger sending his thugs to try and kill Danny would be a good excuse to bring her with him: her staying with them would keep her safe until alternative solutions could be found. He and the bros spent almost the whole day looking for her, so taking her back to their place would be the safest decision. Throttle would be okay with Modo doing this; he was sure of it. And while Vinnie wouldn't be the most enthusiastic due to wanting to maintain his machismo image, he would go along with the decision.

"Well…that's usually standard procedure when meeting someone. But, depending on what's happening, we'll see. At the very least we should get out of the rain. Wet mouse is not a good smell, and I don't think that sweatshirt is doing a good job keeping out the rain."

Modo chuckled, and watched Danny's face. A smile slowly formed on her face as she looked back at him. After another pause, Modo felt Danny wrap her arms slowly around his neck, and interlocking with one another. Then he felt a light weight pressed against his back, and a pair of legs wrapping themselves around him also. He smiled to himself. He was grateful that she was starting to open up to him. Modo slowly stood up, being careful not to aggravate whatever other wounds Danny may have had on her. He made his way back to Lil' Hoss and set Danny down. He dug into where he kept the potato chip bag and handed it to her.

"Not exactly the best thing for growing girls, but it's all I got on me," He said. He smiled when she took the bag and started shoveling the contents into her mouth.

He turned around momentarily to readjust the straps holding the root beer in place. When he turned back to Danny, she was licking the potato chip bag after ripping it open. It wasn't the inner lining that she was licking; it was the entire bag. Not too long ago, the bag was almost three quarters full. Now, the bag potato chip was completely empty, having been ripped in half. He just stood there, dumbfounded and amazed by her eating gusto.

_Doesn't anyone in her home bother to feed her!?_ Modo shook his head in bewilderment. "You sure were hungry, weren't ya?"

"Well, yeah," she said. She wiped the crumbs off her face and licked them off the digits of her fingers. "Haven't eaten in hours."

"I see," was all he could say as he climbed on.  _She scarfed down that bag like it was her last meal._   _I should've found her sooner._  "Well, hop on. The sooner we get out of the rain, the better for the both of us."

Danielle wiped her hands on her wet jeans and slowly approached Modo's motorcycle. She touched the leather seat behind Modo, and her hand stayed there for a few seconds. She then slowly swung her leg over and sat down. Modo peeled his jacket off his body and placed it on her shoulders. She looked up at him with curiosity in her brown eyes.

"Don't want ya catchin' a cold," he explained.

Danielle just simply slipped her arms through the jacket's arms. Modo slowly and delicately wrapped his tail around her waist for support. He did not want to risk aggravating her wounds anymore, even though that seemed hard to do. As he started the engine up, Modo felt Danny's arms slowly wrap around his waist and felt her face press against his back. He smiled to himself. Even though Danny did not seem very talkative, she was showing signs that she did trust him, even if only a bit. He stepped on the gas pedal of his motorcycle and took off down the rain-soaked road.

* * *

By the time Modo had pulled his motorcycle to a stop, the rain had died down to a light drizzle. He slowly unwrapped his tail from Danny's waist and got up from his bike, Danny following suit. He looked up at the apartment complex. With the bricks soaked by the rain water, the neon green of the graffiti seemed to have looked brighter than the last time he was there. The red of the bricks, however, looked almost like a muddy brown color. It was as if the apartment building was decaying every second that passed. It was nothing compared to the sight of the windows. The bricks surrounding the glass looked as though they were inches from breaking off and falling. The front steps were no better. Each step was made from wood, and the wood looked as though it was rotting. In fact, it looked ready to fall to pieces if even the smallest weight was applied to it.

The idea of leaving her in such a place was revolting to him. For a brief moment, the idea of bringing her to the Scoreboard sounded good in his head. But then he remembered that she had a sister who may have been waiting for her up there. What was more, Throttle and Vinnie would not approve of the situation at all. Knowing this and following through on it were two completely different things.

"C'mon, Danny," Modo said reluctantly as he walked towards the entrance. "I'll take ya inside and make sure you get to your place alright."

"Modo, DON'T!"

Before Modo could react to Danny's request, his foot went down as he completed his step forward. He heard the sound of ground breaking, and looked below. Sure enough, the gravel below his right foot bean to crack. The crackling below him increased. Before he could move his foot, or make any sort of reaction, the ground below him gave way to his foot. His right leg sank into the ground, until only the right side of his hip remained. At the same time, his left knee bent down to the ground to follow his right leg. He looked at the ground, his eye wide as he took in what had just happened. Danny rushed to his side and knelt down in order to make eye contact with him.

"I tried to warn you," she said matter-of-factly. "The neighborhood is going to hell and the city uses cheap material and labor to fill in those pot holes. They break down every two weeks."

"I guess the phrase 'Ya get what ya pay for' is true for this neighborhood." Modo pushed against the ground and slowly moved his leg from the large hole. "Well, we should be getting inside now. I think the rain's picking up again."

"M-Modo?"

Modo paused, and turned his attention towards Danny. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and she slowly looked back up at him. She was rubbing the wet material of the sweatshirt sleeve and was biting the bottom corner of her lip. She didn't need to say anything else-it was obvious by her body language that going back to her home was the last thing she wanted to do. Modo had a feeling her "family' was the cause of her anxiety. And while he did not know her very well, he had a feeling she didn't get anxious often. After all, when she first met him and his Bros instead of screaming and trying to run away she got excited and rambled about going on intergalactic adventures. Still, knowing the exact reason why she did not want to go back would help. The more information he got, the better case he could make with Throttle to justify her staying with the Bros.

"You wanna tell me why you're so afraid-"

"I'm not afraid!" Danny said hotly.

"Watch how you talk to your elders," he said firmly. "Besides, that snap means ya are. C'mon, you can tell me why. I won't make fun. Biker's promise."

Danielle looked at the ground for a moment, sighed, then looked up at Modo once more.

"I just…I don't feel up for Keith bit-" Danny stopped for a moment when Modo frowned at her, then started again. "I don't feel up for Keith complaining about my being gone…and I don't feel like getting a smackdown."

"Wait…what you do mean 'smackdown?"

"….did I say that last one out loud?" Danielle paused. "Uhh, let's just forget it and-"

"Danielle." Modo narrowed his working eye at her. While he kept his tone even, he made sure his facial expression was strict. A habit he picked up from his Momma when he was a kid, and an effective interrogation method on Primer and Rimfire in their youth. No child could not resist his look.

"Well…when he gets pissed, he slaps and smacks me around. I was supposed to be making runs for him…but instead I was looking for you and your Bros all day. I was told he was on his way to the alley I was in when I made my escape, but he might be back here now. And when he sees me and confronts me with all this news…let's just say I'll probably look like a walking grape the next day. And I'm no fan of the color purple."

Modo clenched his fist of his bionic arm while Danny told him all of this. If his hand was flesh and not metal, the nails on his fingers would dig into him and cut against the palm of his hand. The metal fingers threatened to dig into his metal palm and destroy the cover and wires inside. But that mattered little to him. This was it: the proverbial straw to break the camel's back. More proof to convince Throttle and Vinnie to keep her with them. Though he was sure if they heard Danny tell them this they would agree without hesitation. He almost hoped this Keith guy was there…for no other reason than to give him a dose of the medicine he had been dealing Danny for who knows how long.

"He won't," Modo assured. "I won't let him."

"R-Really?"

"I promise ya Little Lady: if this "Keith" even tries to lay a hand on you, he'll have to go through me. And not to brag, but I'm literally a walking brick wall. Don't worry: your days as his personal punching bag are over."

"What about Raquelle?"

"Your sister?" Modo blinked. "She being abused to?"

"Not punched and shoved around like me if that's what you mean." Danielle shrugged. "But…have you seen those movies where women are controlled by the bad guys but they stick around because they think they got nowhere else to go?"

"Yeah. I've seen it in some James Bomb movies."

"Well it's like that. She's basically been brainwashed like when Joker brainwashed Harley Quinn. She thinks he'll change when this is all over, but she can't see him for what he is. And I hate her for it…but I can't leave her with him."  She sighed. "Man…I must be more messed up than her."

"No." Modo used his real hand to tilt her chin up to look at him. "It means that despite everything you went through, you still know how to love and care. You haven't lost your humanity and you know the difference between right and wrong. Never be ashamed of that." Modo released his finger.  _Oh Momma…I may have to bring two ladies home tonight. How am I gonna explain this to Throttle?_

Danny smiled up at him, the first big smile she's given him since they first met. Modo smiled and gave her a gentle nudge forward. She stumbled forward when he pushed her forward, almost falling onto the concrete stairs. Modo forgot how much strength he had. He rushed to her to stop her from falling over, but there was no need. She quickly grabbed onto the handrail by the stairs to keep her balance before he could reach her. She turned around to face him, and he smiled at her hoping he would forgive her.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I sometimes forget my own strength. You okay?"

"Not the hardest I've been hit," she said bluntly.

Modo blinked at this response, squeezing his bionic fist. He took another deep breath to calm himself. Losing his temper with her around would not do him any good.

"I'm sorry," was all he could muster. "Well, we'd better go inside."

Danny started climbing up the steps once more, with Modo following right behind her.

* * *

Modo had walked the final step of the stairway when he collapsed on his knees, breathing heavily. Danny pressed her hands onto his shoulders and leaped over his head, landing in front of him. Modo slowly rose to his feet. He pressed his arm to the wall to regain his posture. He did not realize how long the stairway was in the apartment, or how many flights it would take to reach the destination. When he finally reached the top, fatigue had took over.

"Your landlord should put some elevators in here," Modo said, still huffing and puffing.

"You got winded by only four flights of stairs?" Danny laughed. "I thought you were in shape already, being a fighter 'n whatnot."

"Hey, go easy on me," Modo mock pouted. "I did fight off a platoon of goons who were gonna kill you, AND brought ya home. I earned mah exhaustion."

"Shouldn't a guy who fights a platoon of brain-starved morons almost all the time be used to it by now?"

"Is this how you talk with any guy who does ya a favor?"

"No." She smiled innocently. "Just the ones who I start to like."

Modo did not say anything else, only shook his head and laughed. He patted Danny's head, and gently nudged her forward. He sighed to himself and proceeded to follow her, not knowing the room where she lived. As he walked, he felt a knot gradually forming inside his stomach. He did not need to figure out what was causing it: he knew what it was. He could not live with himself for leaving Danny in a place such as this. He promised he would protect her, and protect her he would do. But even with everything going on, he was still sure Throttle and Vinnie would chew him out for bringing a kid into their exclusive home, and for dragging her into their war. Didn't matter the circumstances. But it wasn't like he could take her to the Last Chance, especially this late at night. Charley had already done so much for them since their arrival to Earth, and he didn't want to take advantage of her further. And considering all that happened, he doubted the police would be able to help her, or willing to. No, taking her to the Scoreboard was the only solution. He just hoped that this Keith wasn't there so his actions would be validated, and to spare Danny the sight of him losing control of his temper if going against her abuser.

In all of his thinking, Modo nearly walked past Danny. He stopped, and went back to her side. He watched her pull a key out from her jean pockets to slip it into the keyhole of the knob. When the tip of the key touched the keyhole, the door budged open. Modo blinked, confused by this. Were Danny's guardians home already? Or did they simply forget to lock the door when they left? He hoped it was the former. He knocked on the door gently, ignoring that it caused the door to swing open further.  
"Hello? Anyone?" he got no answer. He slowly pushed the door open more. "Sorry if I'm disturbing ya'll but-"

Modo stopped himself before he could say anything more. When he had pushed the door open, he did not like what he saw. His popped the blaster out from his arm and slowly entered. A small table was overturned. A torn-up brown wool couch was on its side, with the cushions scattered around it. He turned around and saw cabinets above a kitchen counter open, with whatever was in there gone. Some open boxes were scattered on the kitchen floor, but that was it. The fridge was overturned, with various old food scattered on the floor as well. He couldn't understand what had happened.

_A break-in?_  he wondered. He looked at the outer edge of the door. No footmarks, and the doorknob looked in tact.  _No signs of forced entry…_

"What happened?"

Modo turned around and saw Danny step in. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized it was her, but then turned serious.

"Danny-girl, you should go back outside. I dunno what happened just yet."

Modo turned his attention back into the living room. He climbed over the overturned sofa and made his way to a black box lying on the floor. He turned it over and saw that it was an answering machine. The red light beeped, signaling it had two messages in it. Perhaps it could give him an insight of what happened. He kneeled down and pressed the play button to listen to the messages.

"Hey Keith. This is Dogma. I got one of your pushers with me. The one who busted up Joe's nuts and locked almost everyone in. Figured you'd wanna come on by and pick her up. And since she's your charge we know you'll wanna be the one who sets her ri-"

Modo skipped the message before it could finish. He did not need to know what this Dogma guy was going to say. He got to the last one, hoping it would give him a clue to where to go.

"Yo Keith! We gotta get out of town!" a man's voice shouted hoarsely. "One of our pushers got caught by the cops! Our cover is blown! We gotta move our hideout before the law gets in. Whatever you're doing, drop it and get the hell out of here before they find you!"

The message ended abruptly with a loud crackling static, followed by deafening silence. Modo just continued to kneel where he was, too shocked to react or even blink. He could not move, could not speak, he could not even think. All he could do was kneel there, shocked at what had transpired while he was gone.

_So they left…just like that…_

"So they're gone."

"Huh?" Modo snapped out of his reverie.

He turned around. When he did, he saw Danny at the opening of another room in the apartment. She looked down at the floor for a few moments, then turned her back on him. She stepped more into the other room and walked out of his sight. Modo then stood up and followed her in. He stepped over the scattered cigarette boxes and condom wrappers, cringing in disgust over what transpired in that room. He was used to being in a messy environment; he lived with two other men who rarely cleaned up after themselves. But not to the point where they couldn't see the floor.

_Man. If my Mamma was to see this, this would DEFINETLY give her a heart attack. And not just because of the mess._

Modo jumped over a pile of large, empty box of cigarette cartons and found Danny huddled against a closet wall, empty minus a few scattered clothes. He used his right foot to clear the garbage out of his way for a spacing for him. One he could see the floor, he bent down by Danny. He could barely make her out because the room was so dark, but he could make out the outline of her hair.

"So they're all gone. Just like that." She sighed to herself. Was it a sigh of relief, sadness, or anger, though? Then her body started to shake.

"Danny-girl-"

Before Modo could finish trying to comfort her, Danny threw back her head and laughed. Modo just stared, not sure what to make of what was going on. Was it a genuine laugh? Was she thinking about something else to take her mind off her pain? Or did she finally snap?

"I can't belie-" Danny kept laughing until she eventually calmed down. "Talk about irony."

"Danny-girl?"

"The reason why I took off from him was to find you and your Bros," Danny chuckled. "So you would get me and my screwed up sister out of here…be free from that monster. Instead…she high tails it out of town with him and leaves me to fend for myself in the gutter. I almost got killed three times in one day to save us…only to be abandoned by the last of my family. Life is ironic…cruel and ironic."

"Listen, Danny-girl-"

"Not the first time I've been left out in the dust," she simply said. The tone of her voice changed. There was no amusement, no bitterness. She sounded almost…stoic. Indifferent. But he knew better. "First Mom dies, then Dad decides to screw being a dad and hightails it out of Chi-town. Then my grandparents dedicate years to making my life hell because they hated they got stuck with some mixed breed. Then Raquelle and her boyfriend. Been pretty much raising myself since before I could remember."

Modo just listened to her speak. In telling her life story, Danny expressed no emotion in her speech at all. Nothing. Not quiver in her voice, no crack, not even the slightest tremble in her lips. How could she act as though it was no big deal and a joke? It was as if she was bottling them all inside of her. That was not healthy; it would either result in her blowing up suddenly, or becoming detached from the world, which was just as unhealthy. He knew first-hand how dangerous it was; he would not let her follow that path.

"Danny-girl, it's okay to be angry and upset-"

"The hell would you know!?" she suddenly shouted at him. Her voice was breaking up; she was starting to fall apart, as much as she tried not to let it show. "You got your fuzzy friends! I got nothin'! I always had nothin'! But I ain't upset! I'll get by on my own; I always get by on my own!"

Modo just stared at her, unfazed by her reaction. He couldn't hold it against her for being emotional. Anyone who would lose the last of their family, no matter how dysfunctional and negligent, would be upset. And Danny was upset. He could tell that she was starting to cry, no matter how hard she tried to suppress her tears. He wanted to reach out to her, pull her into his arms and hug her; let her know that there was at least one person who DID care about her. But he knew she would jerk his hand off of her; another typical reaction of some.

"I know plenty," he said calmly. "I lost many friends and family on Mars. I had people close to me die before my very eyes; one right in my arms. I lost my left eye and my right arm in the Plutarkian War, and most of my homeworld. My people and I, we're an endangered species. And naturally, ya wanna put up a tough front and pretend it rolls off your back and nothing can puncture that armor. But it doesn't. Believe me, Little Lady, I know."

Modo reached out to touch Danny's cheek. She just sat there, never flinching as his index finger ran slowly down her cheek. He felt a teardrop touch the tip of his finger. He knew that she was crying, but decided against saying about it. He knew how important it was to her that no one saw or took interest in it. It hurt him to see that her own family, the ones who's job it is to nurture and guide their young in the world, had left her to fend for herself. What was worse was not only did they leave her, but the months—probably years—they spent abusing and neglecting her, turning her into what she was before him now. He couldn't wrap his head around why the very people, whose responsibility it was to care and provide for current and future generations, would forsake it. With all the families he had seen torn apart from the war on Mars, it irked him that a family, instead of trying to care for each other, would abuse and abandon someone, putting their immediate needs above the well-being of the younglings. To him, those who would abuse and abandon the family members they created for their own selfish desires were no worse than the Plutarkians who annihilated other civilizations for their own personal greed.

What was more, it hurt him that he was helpless. It wasn't as if he could do the only thing he was good at: blasting things. Tracking the family was out of the question; he wouldn't know the first place to look. Even if he did, it could risk incriminating Danny just through association. He had watched enough LA Law and Law and Order episodes to remember that much. There was no other choice. And he was sure Throttle and Vinnie would agree if they were with him.

Modo stood up and grabbed the first thing he saw: a small black duffle bag. It had gotten left behind in the sudden move from Danny's family. He squatted back down and placed it into her lap. She hastily wiped her eyes and looked at him, clueless.

"What're ya doin'?"

"Grab what ya can," he simply said. "I'm getting ya out of here."

"What're ya doin'?"

"Grab what ya can," he simply said. "I'm getting ya out of here."

"R-really?" Danny sat up suddenly. "We're really gonna leave now?"

"I'm not leavin' ya lone here," he simply said. "I dunno what exactly your family did, but I'm not leaving ya ta deal with the police. Now c'mon. Grab what's left that's yours, and let's get going."

"Where are we going? Your secret hideout?"

"You'll find out soon," he simply said. He grabbed the few remaining shirts that were above her and placed them over her duffle bag. "Just start packing. Don't know how much time we got, so just grab what you can fit and fast. I'll see what else we can grab around here."

* * *

Greasepit brought his motorbike to a stop. He looked up at a brick building, then pulled a small sheet of paper out of his pocket. He squinted his eyes; the oil from his fingers had made the writing hard to read. He used the blade of his other hand to remove the oil from the paper. It was still smudgy, but more legible now.

"Dis is da place?" Greasepit scratched his head. "Might as well tries it out."

He looked back to face his goon army. Each one of them was carrying either a crowbar, a pistol, a set of chains, or a baton. But they all had two things in common: an eager smirk on their faces, and a desire for blood loss.

"Youse goons ready to bash some skulls in!" He smirked as they all shouted in unison as they raised their weapons and fists up. "Lets goes in then! But keep it down; we don't wants the neighbors to hears us."

Greasepit lead the way, or at least he had attempted to. When he took the first step forward, his body sunk halfway down into the concrete. He briefly screamed out as he did. He attempted to push himself out of the hole he had gotten into.  
"Stupid pot-holes! Why don't this city fix 'dems!" He struggled to push himself up, his oil drippings filling the hole fast. "Help down here! I need two of yas goons ta pulls me up before I drowns!"

Two men quickly went to Greasepit's side and each grabbed an arm. They pulled him out of the hole, or at least attempted to. His weight and the thickness of the dripping grease made it difficult for them to pull him out. They each lost their grip on his arms and he fell onto the concrete once more. Greasepit yelped, then rubbed his bottom while wincing. He slowly stood up and wiped the granite chunks of his overalls, smearing more grease on them.

"Okay…lets try dis agains." Greasepit cleared his throat and turned. "We know what to dos right? Mister Limbouiger wants her good 'n dead so she doesn't tell no cops about what he's doing. Or dem Biker Mice. And how yous wanna do it…surprises me."

The chorus of unisons was all Greasepit needed. They marched forward into the apartment, their mind on two goals: capture, and a free punching bag.

* * *

Modo was overlooking a box of instant ramen noodles. Keep them, or toss them out? He brought them to his nose to take a sniff. He winced at the smell of them-so dry and bland. He could not understand why humans found the food so appealing. He tossed them back into the pile of the food items that Danielle's family did not take with them.

"Give me hot dogs 'n root beer over this instant stuff anyday."

"You cook them in water first."

Modo blinked and turned around to face Danny. During while she was packing, she changed into a drier pair of jeans, a long sleeved black shirt with a baggy red t-shirt over it, and a skateboard in her right arm. She placed the black duffle bag at her feet, and her backpack strapped to her back. She was ready to leave. Modo stood up and absently wiped his hands on his jeans.

"Ready to head out, kiddo?"

"Might as well," she shrugged. "Just let me get my jacket, and I'll be good to go."

When Danny set her backpack down, a small box had fallen from the small zipper compartment on the front. Modo blinked when it did. Danny did not notice it at all while she was slipping her arms into the sleeves. He took that opportunity to find out what she dropped. As he bent down to pick up the box, he noticed the familiar writing of "Malboro" written. His eyes widened when he realized it was a box of cigarettes. Danny was a smoker, and she was only a child!

He couldn't believe what he saw, though a part of him did. Many kids who were victims of violence in their homes were more likely to be smokers, alcoholics, or drug abusers. At least that was what he remembered seeing in a  _Law and Order_  episode one night. And while he never said anything, he could always smell the faint, lingering smell of tobacco and other drugs on her. He just assumed it was because she lived with people that used it. She never showed any of the symptoms of drug use: no bloodshot eyes or large or small pupils, no slurred dialogue, no dark matter on her fingernails or any needle marks. So he didn't think she was a drug addict, but seeing the cigarette box fall out of her backpack was a clear enough indicator she was a user, even if not a regular user. But he couldn't let her continue her habit any longer. What could he do? If he confronted her right now, she would get mad at him. The last thing he wanted right now was confrontation. But he couldn't just dismiss her habit as no big deal either.

Danny had just slipped her arm into the second sleeve of a dark grey sweatshirt. Before she could turn around, Modo quickly stuffed the cigarette box into his chest guard. He quickly stood back up before she could turn and see the cigarette box. She looked at him funny, but he only smiled sheepishly at her. He didn't want her suspecting that she knew.

"You okay, Modo?"

"Yeah; couldn't be better," he said. "Ya ready to leave?"

"Yeah. Sure," she said. "Might as well get going now."

Modo nodded and patted her shoulder. He knelt down to pick up her dufflebag. When he did, he felt his ears twitch. He reached up by instinct to touch them. Why did they twitch so suddenly? They twitched again, and he heard faint noises. He hauled the dufflebag over his shoulder and took a quick glance out the window. Outside, he caught a glance of a large burly man, with a small group of weapon-wielding men following him. He did not need to know what was going on. Greasepit had obviously found their location and would be wasting no time in dragging them out. He could easily take them on, but he had a civilian to take care of. There was no time to waste; they had to get out fast.

Just as Modo grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the window, a loud banging noise was heard. He turned and saw that the front door was starting to come apart with every loud bang on it. He bit his lower lip, silently cursing himself. They got up the stairs faster than they expected, damn it all! It was a wonder that no one else from the apartment was making any commotion because of the noise. There was no time to worry about that, though.

"Comes out, youse!"

_Dangit!_ Modo looked to the window and back at the door.  _I can't fight a mini platoon of goons AND protect a teen without backup. But there's no way my bros can get here in time. Mah radio's back on Lil' Hoss._

Modo looked back at the window. It was risky, but there was no other choice. It had to be done. He yanked her arm towards the window. Naturally, he met some resistance along the way.

"You serious!? We're actually gonna-"

"Shush!" Modo hissed silently. "Yeah, we're gonna get out this way. Not how I planned it, but there's no other way."

"But-"

"But nothing," he cut in. "Ya trusted me this far, right?"

"Y-yeah…" Danny gulped, nodding vigorously.

"So ya got no reason to stop trusting me." Modo smiled at her. "I promise, you'll be fine as long as ya stay with me."

As Modo said this, the door began to cave in. The wood began to crack in half, then eventually became nothing more than broken pieces.


	8. Chapter 8

Biker Mice is not copyrighted to me, but to Rick Ungar. The songs "One Day" and "Get Down" are copyright to Gary Moore and the Backstreet Boys, respectively. While being used without permission, no profit is being made from this fanfic. This is solely for entertainment purposes and writing practice. However, Danielle "Danny" Aguirrez does belong to me. No using her without my permission.

Thank you all for your generous comments, faves and follows. Your support is greatly appreciated. ^_^ Originally this was going to be part of Chapter 7, but i realized it would be too long. So instead I broke it up into 2 separate chapters, and did some editing. I think it works better this way.

Legal jargon time. Biker Mice is not copyrighted to me, but to Rick Ungar. The songs "One Day" and "Get Down" are copyright to Gary Moore and the Backstreet Boys, respectively. While being used without permission, no profit is being made from this fanfic. This is solely for entertainment purposes and writing practice. However, Danielle "Danny" Aguirrez does belong to me. No using her without my permission.

* * *

Greasepit slammed the butt of his barrel gun into the door, breaking it apart completely. He watched the shredded wood pieces fall onto the ruddy red carpet, and flicked off the remaining pieces on his gun. He kept it at his side as he stepped inside. He looked from his left to his right, and slowly swung his head in a semi-circle to the right. He grunted and frowned.

"Awww phoeys."

His disappointment was warranted. When he entered and looked, there was no one in sight. All he saw was an open window and furniture overturned. So they either left in a hurry, or they were the biggest slobs he had ever seen. He kicked aside an open ramen noodle cup as he took another step in. His goons followed suit as he looked all around. He sent three to check the kitchen area, and the other five to the bedroom. While they did so, he scanned the living room. He then remembered the open window. It was a long shot, but she may have been hiding under the window or have escaped in the alley way. He reset his rifle and poked his head out the open window. He sulked again when he saw the outside. There was no human life outside the window. All he saw was the metal railing for the emergency fire exit, and an empty alleyway. But he couldn't tell what else was there because the cloudy sky made seeing hard to do. He stepped onto the metal platform to get a better look at the outside. Aside from seeing a few trashcans and a metal gate, there was no sign of the girl or anyone else.

Greasepit paused for a moment, then quickly turned and pointed his gun at the outside wall. He paused, then slowly lowered his weapon. His ears were playing tricks on him; there was no one there. He could have sworn he had heard breathing, but he saw nothing behind him. He stepped back inside and wiped the rain off his bare shoulders.

"Well goons? Anythings?"

"Nada, boss," one confirmed. "No brat in the cabinets. Just some rusted pots 'n pans, a few packages of instant noodles, and rancid milk in the fridge."

"Are dey so poor dat they cants buy fresh milk?" Greasepit shook his head. This was not the time to wonder about that. "Neverminds. So no brat huh?"

Greasepit turned his attention to the others that went to check out the bedroom.

"Well? Youse guys find anything?"

"Almost completely empty," one with a red mohawk with a long scar across his face answered. "All that was left was the bed and dresser." He held up a broken plastic balloon. "And…this stuff."

"Dey sure do holds a lot of parties in dis place." He held the balloon-like article in his hands. "Why don't they throw out their trash? And why keeps dese balloons? It's broken; ya can't make dems bigger."

"Um, sir…it's not a balloon. It's a condom." Pause. "You don' blow on it; you wear it."

Greasepit put the disgarded article on his red cap and tried to fit it over his head. It did not work; the device would not stretch.

"Uhh…not there sir.

Greasepit paused for a moment. He could not remember for the life of him what that was. Then he saw one of the goons point to his crotch. Greasepit paused for a moment, realizing what he meant. He then screamed. He threw the broken condom onto the ground and stomped it as hard as he could. When he heard his goons laugh at his behavior, he glared at them. The laughs stopped as instantly as they started.

"Dese people are sick!" Greasepit wiped his hands on his grease-covered overalls. "I's seen cleaner dumpsters than dis place!"

He then noticed a black box on the ground. He bent down and picked it up. It was an answering machine. He looked at the button that said "play", and pressed it. When he heard the message, he smirked.

"Ah, so she's on da runs again wid her family. Mister Limburger'll wanna know 'bout dis." He turned his attention to his goons. "Dem cops are probably on da way, so wese need ta amscray. I'm gonna gid da message ta da boss. Youse all continues lookin' for the brat. Radio me when ya's finds her."

With that, Greasepit and his squadron of goons exited the apartment and went their separate ways.

* * *

Modo breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the door closed. He stood on the adjacent wall with Danny, balanced between one of the crumbling gaps and a window sill. They were safe for now. He looked to his left where Danny was still hugging his waist with her face buried against his left side. He felt her body shaking against him while she continued to hold onto him. Was it from the rain, the cold air, or fear? Or perhaps she was trying to stifle tears again, and her body shook because of that suppression. He used his good arm to squeeze her shoulder and keep her close to him while he pressed his bionic arm against the outside wall. He couldn't afford to move both arms; they had to stay balanced until he was sure the threat was gone.

He continued to grip the wall with his bionic hand for a while, waiting for the right moment to come. He had to be sure that the goons wouldn't be able to track him and Danny down. He could probably take them on if he had to, even with a civilian to block. But he would prefer not to; it would make the job difficult for him to do on his own. Above all else, he did not want to put Danny at risk of getting caught in the crossfire.

"Okay, in Spiderman and my other comics they make this really exciting. But doing it in real life…it's more terrifying."

"You find that what happens in comics and movies is a lot different than in real life, Little Lady." Modo looked down for a moment, then back to Danny. "Danny-girl, I gotta ask ya for a favor?"  
"Wh-what?"

"Climb on my back."

"…seriously?" Danny looked at him. He couldn't see due to the dark sky and rain, but he was sure she was smiling. "We're actually gonna jum-"

"I need both arms ta get mah bike over. I can't get her if I gotta keep hold of ya. And it's too far to jump." He paused for a moment. "Remember when ya told me that ya trusted me? Don't stop now."

Danny slowly unwrapped her arms from around Modo's waist and moved them to around his neck, then wrapped her legs around his waist one at a time. Modo inched his feet to the edge of the wall, his foot moving away slightly to avoid the crumbling brick material. While keeping hold of the wall, he reached out with his flesh arm to grab the drain pipe. After a moment, he swung forward and grabbed it with his bionic arm. He sighed in relief, until he heard a loud creaking noise.

"What was that?"

"Oh Momma. This ain't good."

Suddenly, the drain pipe Modo was hugging broke off from the wall, resulting in him and Danny falling to the ground below. She screamed as they fell from the wall to the floor. Modo deactivated his helmet's visor and whistled. He smiled when Lil' Hoss drove into the alleyway and skidded to a halt just before they reached the ground. Modo landed in the driver's seat with Danny right behind him.

"Hey! What was that?"

Modo quickly drove Lil' Hoss out of the alley and around the other side as fast as he could. He did not want to put Danny in the middle of another fight if he could prevent it. He skidded Lil' Hoss to a halt on the other side just as he heard the loud and forceful stomping of feet on the fire escape outside. Modo watched as five ran out from the fire escape to examine the area by where they were earlier. He popped the cannon out from his cybernetic arm. While he did not want to start a fight, he knew had to prepare for one that would most likely come his way. He just hoped that if one started, he could radio Throttle and Vinnie for backup. The laser on his gun glowed a faint blue as he prepared to fire a laser in defense.

However, just as he was about to, a lucky break came his way. Greasepit made his way to the balcony and started calling out to his squadron.

"Whose outs here?"

"No one here," one with a paunch stomach called out. He held out the broken drain pipe. "This just rusted over and fell apart. Thought someone was out here."

"Neverminds dat!" Greasepit yelled out. "No one's here, and dat brat's probably long gone by nows. We's gotta tell the boss what we know before dem nosy cops come by, or dem mice."

Modo watched as Greasepit and his goon squadron evacuated the apartment and drove off back to Limburger tower. He gave a sigh of relief and set the cannon back into his arm. Normally he would enjoy a good brawl. He would even want to chase after Limburger's goons, and call out Throttle and Vinnie to join in on the fun. But tonight, too much as at stake for him to go after them. He looked back at Danny and smiled.

"It's okay, Little Lady. They're gone."

"You're not gonna go after them and rip their heads off their necks?"

"Uhhh….no." Modo raised his eyebrows and stared at Danny in bewilderment. "Where do get these morbid ideas from anyway?"

"Old horror movies, and trash talk from…you know who."

"Oh. Well…no, we don't do that. We fight, blow stuff up, occasional bloody nose, knocking out teeth, busted jaws, broken bones and lots of bruises…but no flying arms, legs, or heads."

"Don't the explosions kill them anyway?"

"If they did, why do I keep fighting the same faces over and over?"

"Maybe they're zombies. Or they're clones?"

"That's a mystery we'll solve another time. Right now I wanna get out of this rain. Wet mouse smell is NOT good."

"When you live where I live, odor de wet mouse is perfume."

Modo just looked at her with a wide eye, and then shook his head.

"Yeah…I'm not gonna dig deeper to know what you meant by that."

"So, are we really gonna go to your secret hideout? What's it like?"

"First, yeah, we are. Motel's too risky. Limburger's goons might find ya there. Your friends might be in danger if I take you to them, and if your family is as bad as you say they are you'll be shipped to juvie just for being in the family. So law enforcement's out of the question." Modo looked back at Danny. "And I'm gonna say this before we get there: this isn't like those underground bases for government agencies you'd see in those old sci-movies, or in comics like  _Avengers_  or  _X-Men_. I don't think even the  _Justice League_  would cover it well. They don't tell the truth about Martians like me."

"I had that feeling." Danny paused. "Wait…you're familiar with  _X-Men_ ,  _Avengers_ and _The Justice League_? I didn't think it was possible, but you just became even more awesome."

Modo shook his head and chuckled, and stuck a spare helmet on Danielle's head.

"I know enough to get the gist of what they do and who is who. Now hold on tight, Danny-girl." He revved up Lil' Hoss's engine once more. "It's time ta ride."

With that, Modo drove Lil' Hoss onto the street and down back to Quiggly field. While driving, he occasionally glanced back at Danielle. Her mouth had formed a worrisome frown, with her eyes glancing at the road below Lil' Hoss's tires. She was detached and withdrawn at that moment, not wanting to talk to anyone. He couldn't blame her for being so. A lot had happened in to her in this one day alone. Almost being killed three times in one day, her family abandoning her without warning, and having to move suddenly. Who would be able to talk after that, much less want to? True, he could try to distract her with stories during his time in the Plutarkian War, but he doubted she would want to listen. Telling her others have it worse would only make her feel worse. That was the one thing he wanted to avoid right now, along with encountering Greasepit and his goon army again.

"Hey, uh…ya mind if I turn on the radio?" he asked her. "Maybe some music will help us." He waited for a response, but didn't get one. "Well, I'm gonna put on a little music. But I'll keep it soft so you can talk if ya wanna."

"Okay."

Modo felt Danny tighten her grip on the straps of his chestplate. He wrapped his tail around her waist to give her a quick hug while he searched for radio stations that were not playing commercials or talking about the rain. He already knew it was raining and to be careful driving down the street. He did not want to hear the same announcement every five seconds! Whenever he was fortunate enough to find a radio station, it was bland rap or hip hop. When he turned to one station, his eyes went wide and he started to feel nauseous.

_**You're the one for me** _

_**You're my ecstasy** _

_**You're the one I need...** _

_**Get Down,** _

_**Get Down,** _

_**And Move It All Around.** _

_**Get Down,** _

_**Get Down,** _

_**And Move It All Around.** _

"Oh Momma, NO!" Modo quickly changed to a different station which played a car commercial. He breathed a sigh of relief, the wave of nausea gone. "That was close." He turned back to look at Danny. "Don't worry, they're gone. And I'm sure soon the radio heads will wise up and take off those preppy wannabe singers."

Danny looked back at him, and gave him a small smile. He smiled back too. While he didn't want her to feel like she had to pretend for him, he was glad she was acknowledging him. He turned back to change the radio again, but he decided not to. The song he picked up started with the slow strumming of an electric guitar, followed by slow paced drumming. Under normal circumstances, he would change it with loud and fast guitars, heavy fast paced drumming, and the singers would scream out their lyrics. But these were not normal circumstances. And right now, the slow melody and lyrics fit what was going on perfectly. He moved his hand back from the radio to the handlebars, and let them listen to the song on the radio.

 __ **I've seen that look somewhere before**  
Your sorrow's like an open door  
You've been this way for much too long  
Somebody must have done you wrong

_**But one day the sun will shine on you** _   
_**Turn all your tears to laughter** _   
_**One day your dreams may all come true** _   
_**One day the sun will shine on you** _

Modo blinked when he took in the lyrics. It was as if someone knew just what was going on, and had meant for him to find that song. He looked back at Danny at that moment, and felt her rest her covered head against his back. He smiled as she started taking comfort against him. He moved a hand to one of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. Everything was changing fast, he knew that. He wanted her to believe everything would be alright regardless. He wanted to believe everything would work out the way they both wanted it to. Not just for her, but for himself as well.

_I know you're upset, Danny-girl._

__**I've seen that look so many times**  
I know the sadness in your eyes  
Your life is like a wishing well  
Where it goes, only time will tell

_**One day the sun will shine on you** _   
_**Turn all your tears to laughter** _   
_**One day your dreams may all come true** _   
_**One day the sun will shine on** _

Danny tightened her thin arms around Modo's waist to the best of her ability. Modo knew she couldn't wrap them completely around him; his waist was much thicker than her arms could support. But he smiled when she did this. Opening up to him, physically if not verbally. Despite all that happened, she didn't completely shut down or completely shut him away. There was hope yet.

_I know life dealt ya a bad hand. Several bad hands probably. Everyday I feel the same way when I'm reminded of the war, my arm, and all the other crap I had to put up with my life. And I know what it's like to lose your family, though I never had them abuse and abandon me. I wish I knew the magic words to make it all better. But right now…right now, this is the best I can do._

__**Say goodbye to the lonely nights**  
Say goodbye to the Northern Lights  
Say goodbye to the cold north winds  
Say goodbye to the autumn leaves

_Life is cruel, and sometimes it feels like we're just toys for the higher ups in the sky. But it doesn't mean we shouldn't try to do somethin' about it. Things will get better for ya. I know it….I'll make sure of it._

__**One day the sun will shine on you**  
Turn all your tears to laughter  
One day your dreams may all come true  
One day the sun will shine on you

_**One day the sun will shine on you** _   
_**One day the sun will shine on you** _

With that, Modo turned off the radio and noticed Quiggly field coming up in front of him. They were almost home. In just a few moments, they would be dry and out of the rain. The only problem was explaining it to Throttle and Vinnie. In all of the commotion and excitement, he forgot to contact them. He wasn't sure how to break the news to them. Throttle and Vinnie agreed to help her as she's connected to Limburger in some way, but he was sure they would be concerned Modo brought her over without contacting them first. At least that's what Throttle would say. As for Vinnie, he would be furious too. Less for not being contacted, but for Modo leaving him out of the "fun".

Oh well. That was a bridge he would cross when the time came. Danny was safe, and that was the main concern. He will deal with a lecture from Throttle and Vinnie and accept whatever they tell him.

"Danny-girl, I got a quick favor to ask ya. Throttle doesn't like unexpected company, and is paranoid about bein' exposed. So, I'm gonna you to-"

"We're goin' to Quiggley field, aren't we?"

Modo paused for a moment just as Danny suddenly blurted that statement out. The fact that she knew where they lived not only caught him off guard, but it terrified him. If she knew where he and his bros lived, then anyone else could. Even Limburger.

"Wh-what makes you thi-""Modo, I ain't an idiot. I'm supposed to believe you 'n your bros were just hanging out around there the day I was almost gang raped? Ya hadta have snuck in somehow…so I guess you live there, or nearby the field. And don't worry-I didn't tell anyone about you, or where I figured your secret base is. Besides, I think it's cool. Hiding right in plain sight. No one would figure you'd live in a sports arena. Though curious: how did you turn a sports stadium into a secret base without the public finding out?"

"Uhh…I think you have a misunderstanding of our living arrangements, Danny-girl. Remember: this isn't like in your comic book series."

"Whatever you say." Danny winked.

Modo just rolled his good eye and concentrated on the road. The streets were the most slippery when wet. Normally he would welcome it as a challenge. But with a kid riding in back of him, no such risk could be afforded. Besides, he was not very fond of being out in the rain. Wet fur created an odd smell which he was not fond of, nor would anyone close by him enjoy. It was also cold and windy, and he felt Danny's arms shaking while she held onto him. There was also the matter of Greasepit and his goon army looking for them, and possibly other cops. He was surprised that no police officers were involved in the search around Danny's apartment. Perhaps they did not know where her apartment was, and her family used a different identity to cover their tracks. But that did not matter; what did matter was getting out of the rain as soon as possible.

His train of thought was broken when he saw the familiar site of Quiggley field. He revved up Lil' Hoss's engine more and drove further into the field. Reassured that Danny was holding on tight to him, he drove up the front of the stadium, had the automated door open for him, and drove right into the Scoreboard. He skidded Lil' Hoss to a halt, then set the kickstand up to hold her up.

After he removed his helmet, he looked around to see if Throttle and Vinnie were awake in order to prepare himself for questions and lectures. Instead, what he got was snoring. He turned his head to face his right side to see where the noise was coming from. Sure enough, Throttle and Vinnie were in their respected bed and hammock, sleeping. Vinnie was sleeping on his back, his head tilted to his right and one of his legs hanging out. Modo could not help but notice that a small river of drool was trickling out of the corner of his mouth, and onto the floor below him, creating a small puddle below his jaw. Throttle fared no better. He was sleeping on his stomach. His left cheek was crushed to the pillow, his mouth partially open as he snored softly. Both were without their bandoleers and leather vest respectively, and Throttle's glasses were hanging right above him in a separate compartment in between the bunk beds.

 _Figures Vinnie would be sawing logs by now._ Modo rolled his working eye.  _I thought at least Throttle would still be up at this time. It's only 1 a.m._ Modo paused for a moment.  _Probably better this way. Don't wanna argue about her stayin over after a big fight just happened. Poor kid's been through enough already._

"This is where you live?"

Modo's train of thought was broken when he turned and saw that Danny had taken off her blindfold. She looked around the interior as she squinted her brown eyes.

"This place a storage closet or something? Where's your training room or meeting room?" She looked back at him.

"Something like that, Little Lady." Modo slowly climbed off Lil' Hoss and watched Danny push herself off in the opposite direction. "Remember when I said it's not like in your comic books? Well, it's not. This is our home. No holograms, no special rooms for training or holding meetings. No high tech recreation room. But it beats being in the rain. How about ya change out of those rags and into somethin' ya can sleep in?"

Danny paused for a moment, then nodded and grabbed a change of clothes from her sleeping bag. Modo watched her as she slipped into one of the darker corners of the Scoreboard to change, then turned his attention away from her. While she was distracted, Modo made his way to a waste basket that was set up in the Scoreboard's makeshift kitchen.

When he was absolutely sure she wasn't watching him, he took the package of cigarettes out of his chestplate and looked at it. He just could not understand why she would be involved in a habit as toxic as smoking. Especially at her age! Didn't she know how dangerous it was? He knew he would have to confront Danny on the matter tomorrow. It was too late to have a confrontation, and he did not want to wake his bros up with the noise. They would probably be able to sleep through it, knowing how accustomed they were to loud noises. Still, he did not want to take a chance, as slim as it was.

_Oh Momma, what am I gonna do?_

Modo looked back at the cigarette pack, then slowly ripped it and the contents up. Once. Twice. Four times. He kept at it until everything was completely torn apart to the point where no one could tell what they were before. It was easy to rip it to shreds repeatedly; his bionic arm made almost everything easier to do. Modo took a moment to look back at the ripped up cigarette pack and its contents. He wanted to look back to make sure Danny was not looking in his direction, but did not want to risk seeing her changing if he did. He took a deep but silent breath. He knew what he had to do next.

 _Sorry, Danny-girl._ Modo looked down at the small waste basket.  _I know you're gonna hate me for this when ya find out, but it's for your own good._

Modo lowered his hand to the waste basket, and let the broken pack and cigarettes fall from his hand into the bottom of the bin. Satisfied, he wiped his hand on his jeans. He suddenly felt a finger tap his chestplate from behind, and he felt the color drain from his face. Did Danny find out he had her cigarettes? Did she see him rip apart the box and throw it out? Was she mad at him?

"Hey, your head still workin' up there?"

Modo slowly turned his head to look down. He saw Danny in a pair of red plaid pajama bottoms and a black shirt that looked like it was two sizes too big for her, with tears and holes in the sleeves and bottom hemming. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, with a few loose strands dangling around her temples. She looked up at him inquisitively.

"You functioning up there?"

"Oh, Danny-girl." Modo paused for a moment. "Uhh…you didn't see what I did in there, did you?"

"Did you do number one in the trash bin?"

"Uhh…no."

"Number two?"

"Definitely not."

"Number three?"

"No" Modo paused for a moment. "Wait, what's numb-nevermind. I think my brain had enough gross out moments for tonight. I'm gonna take the sofa in the middle. You can use my bed tonight."

"What if-"

"Vinnie once slept through a level 5 earthquake, and heavy metal music is his lullaby. No way you climbing up on my bunk is gonna wake him up."

Danielle looked at him for a moment, then at the top of the bunk, then back at him. She nodded and made her way to the bunk bed where Throttle was sleeping. She grabbed the top posts and started to climb up before Modo put a hand on her shoulder. She paused and turned around to look at him.

"Before I forget." Modo opened a first aid kit and pulled out rubbing alcohol and antibacterial ointment. "Those scrapes are bad. We need to treat and cover them before they get infected."

"But that stuff st-"

"Shhh!" Modo poured some rubbing alcohol inside a cotton ball. "We don't wanna wake my bros. Now I know this stuff is gonna hurt, but it's important to clean the wound before I cover it. That way no dirt gets inside and gets ya sick. Take it from someone who's gotten more than his scare of scrapes and cuts. Now bite down on your lip. It'll be over before you know it, Little Lady."

Danny did so and Modo gently moved the alcohol covered cotton ball on her cheek. He saw her clench her fists as he cleaned her cuts, but did not make a sound. It seemed as though she was used to going through pain. It was both heartbreaking and a relief; heartbreaking because of what she endured, but relieving because he could get the job done with little distraction. After he was sure the wounds were clean enough, Modo rubbed some ointment on her exposed skin of the scrapes on her cheek, then covered her cheek with gauze. Once he was finished with his work, he stepped back to examine the results of his labor. The gauze bandage on her cheek would definitely attract attention. Even he did not have the skills to cover that up. But at least her wound would be able to heal properly.

"There. It'll heal faster now," Modo said. "Just make sure not to sleep on that cheek so the bandage won't fall off.

Wordlessly, Danny turned back around and climbed up so she was on the top bunk, then climbed under the covers of Modo's bed.

"If ya need me, I'll be at the sofa." He paused. "And don't worry. Tomorrow I'll sort everything out with my Bros. Now get some sleep, Lil' Lady."

"Not sure I can sleep," Danny yawned. "Not after what happened today." She paused. "And are they sleeping with chainsaws? Man they're loud."  
"You get used to it. Now c'mon-try to go to sleep." He smiled. "Don't worry-you're safe here. Limburger and his goons don't know our location, and you're with three of the best body guards you can find anywhere. "

Danny started nodding off. The need for sleep was starting to pick up for her, as much as she tried to fight it. She turned to her side and clutched one of the pillows, hugging it close to her. Her eyes eventually closed, and she started drifting to sleep. Modo watched her for a few moments to make sure she was completely settled in, then went for the sofa in the middle of the Scoreboard. As he sat down, he took off his chestplate, then his boots, his belt and then unbuttoned the top of his jeans. He stretched his arms over his head, yawned, and then laid down on the sofa to sleep. At least, that's what he wanted to do.

Even though his body was tired and ached, his mind was racing at several miles a minute, with no pitstop in sight. Why was the Plutarkian after a human teenager anyway? He only remembered a bit of the message, but from what he gathered Danny's former family was involved in some criminal activity. Maybe Danny's family worked for Limburger, and they decided to double cross him and now he's after them. It would explain why his goon army was dead set on killing her, and why her family ran away: for revenge and safety, respectively. Maybe Danny was involved in what Limburger was doing, or at least had the knowledge for it. Maybe he was going after her, and the family, to make sure no information was leaked. The fewer people knew what he was up to, the better Limburger's chances of succeeding in whatever plan he had. After Modo thought it, he immediately pushed it from his mind. Even though Danny was by no means a saint, he couldn't imagine her being part of Limburger's plan to extort Earth's natural resources to Plutark. But he still couldn't shake the feeling that Danny was somehow connected to whatever Limburger was planning.

And even if they could figure out what Limburger was up to and put his new operation to an end, what will happen afterwards? While the Bros want to help Danny, her staying with them couldn't be a permanent solution. Throttle was right about earlier: a sports stadium was no place for a teenager to live. And Charley already had her hands full with the Bros and helping out against Limburger, as much as the three mice tried to keep her involvement to the bare minimum. And how would Danny react to that? She risked her life just to find them, and if she were to find out they were contemplating giving her up, he doubted she would take it well. It might be the one thing that would send her over the edge. Modo started rubbing his head.

_Oh Momma, all this thinkin' and overthinkin' is givin' me a migraine. How does Throttle do it?_

For a moment, Modo thought about waking up Throttle, Vinnie and Danny to start talking. But they were all fast asleep, and Danny already went through so much in one night. No. He decided to let them sleep. Tomorrow would be another day. They could question Danny when all four of them were refreshed and could better focus.

Modo decided to close his good eye, and try to get some sleep. He knew it wouldn't come easy, but he had to at least try. After all, he had a feeling tomorrow was going to be a long, dangerous day.

* * *

_A/N: Hooray! The worst is over! For now anyway._


	9. Chapter 9

Okay, time for legal jargon. Biker Mice and all affiliated characters do not belong to me. Danielle "Danny" Aguirrez belongs to me. No using without permission.

* * *

Throttle was the first to wake up. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He couldn't even remember falling asleep. The last thing the tanned mouse remembered was listening to the radio while thinking over all that happened yesterday: the battle at the diner, Limburger's goon army attacking earlier, Andy's new employee freaking out and attacking them, no luck finding the kid, and trying to figure out what Limburger was planning. Throttle rubbed his face, and winced slightly when his hand touched his nose. He still felt a slight twinge of pain where Jet had hit him with the trash lid yesterday. That was not one of his finer moments. Throttle, a prodigy in field tactics and fight maneuvers, was bested by an Earth woman with nothing more than a trash lid. All in all, yesterday was eventful and stressful and mentally took its toll on the poor mouse.

_When the shit hits the fan, man does it hit with us._

With everything happening all at once, Throttle felt his head swimming so he decided to lay down and try and sort everything out. He closed his eyes…and then before he knew it, morning came. But unlike with other mornings, he was no closer to figuring out what Limburger was planning. Or figuring out how to put an end to whatever he was planning before he could carry it out.

Unlike with his previous schemes, there was no rhyme or reason for Limburger's newest activity. Nothing out of the ordinary: no goon army digging up natural resources in the Chicago area, no elaborate schemes, and no supervillians for hire hunting him and his Bros down. No, nothing about what was going on made any sense to him. It was uncharacteristic of Limburger to hunt down people unless he needed them specifically. Even then, he wouldn't pull out so many stops to have them killed, but used as bait for him and the bros. Or maybe it was bait for Danny's family. Unfortunately, he had no idea where her usual hangouts were, or even remembered where she lived-all he remembered was that she lived in the Humboldt Park neighborhood. At least it was an easy neighborhood to remember-the street names were fancier than from the other Chicago neighborhoods, and he didn't remember seeing a single hot dog vendor anywhere.

 _Guess we'll hafta ride off to Humboldt Park and scout the apartment complex until she comes out. Not how I wanted to spend my Sunday,_ he sighed.  _Oh well. We didn't become heroes to have it easy._

Throttle reached above his bed and pulled his glasses out from the compartment he set up to store them when not in use. Once he regained his eyesight, he pulled on his boots and stood up. Grabbing his leather vest off the post, he slipped it on as he walked towards Vinnie, who was still asleep. He rolled his eyes behind his glasses when he saw how sloppily Vinnie was sleeping, and the drool trickling down the corner of his mouth and onto the floor. A very typical Vinnie.

 _He hasn't moved an inch since yesterday._ Throttle gently but firmly shook Vinnie by the shoulders. "Vinnie, wake up."

Vinnie grumbled, but then resettled back to sleep. Throttle frowned and shook harder.

"Vincent, get up. We got hero business." Throttle kept shaking, but Vinnie wouldn't wake up. It was time for drastic measures. "Okay, time for plan B."

Throttle pinched Vinnie's nose. He figured cutting off the white furred mouse's oxygen supply would be enough to wake him up. It did not-Vinnie only breathed through his mouth instead. So Throttle covered Vinnie's mouth with his other hand. He waited a few seconds. Then, the white furred Martian's eyes opened and he bolted up, shoving Throttle's hands off of him. He gasped for breath, and then when he recovered enough he glared at him.

"What the hell was that for? I could've suffocated!"

"Good, you're up." Throttle tossed Vinnie his bandoleers. "Get dressed, Bro. We got a full day of scouting and searching ahead of us."

"For who or what?"

"That kid, remember. Danny. I know she's connected to Limburger and whatever he's planning. We gotta find her before he does and find out what she knows or doesn't know." Throttle knocked on the wood of the top bunk. "C'mon, Modo. Rise and shine. Hero business."

Throttle paused when he saw something in the corner of his eye. He turned and saw Modo sleeping on the sofa across the Scoreboard. He blinked, making sure he saw right. He did. Modo was sleeping on the sofa instead of his usual bunk bed. He must have gotten in late and was too worn out to make the trip to the bed, so he settled with the sofa.

"Uh, Throttle?" Vinnie tapped his tanned friend on the shoulder. "Modo's not the only one who's not where he's supposed to be."  
"What you mean, Vincent?"

Vinnie pointed to the top bunk. Throttle looked, and noticed there was a small bundle resting on top, covered in a dark blanket. Did a Limburger lackey sneak in and figure out their hideout? Throttle grabbed the blaster from his holster and slowly climbed up to the top. When he got up there, he saw the blanket-covered lump was small, and he saw a small tuft of black hair sticking out. He wrapped his tail around the bed post for support, then with his free hand he pulled the blanket off with one forceful tug. He blinked, and saw Danny, curled up in a fetal position while hugging the pillow on the bed. She was breathing softly, her black hair in disarray all around her face and the bed. Throttle lowered his blaster back into its holster. A frown formed on his face.

"I should've seen this coming…but I didn't. I think I'm losing my touch."

"Hey Bro, what gives?" Vinnie climbed up. "What's goi-" Vinnie paused in midsentence when he saw Danny sleeping on Modo's bed. "Hey is that-"

"Yeah…it is."

"How did she-wait, I can figure it out." Vinnie turned to look at Throttle. "Saves up a trip, at least."

"Still a lot of questioning to do." Throttle climbed down from the bunk. "You get her up-I'm gonna wake up Modo."

"Why do I gotta wake the squirt up? Why can't you?"

Throttle pushed his glasses down the bridge of his nose and looked at Vinnie incredulously. "Vincent, you seriously wanna be the one to wake up Modo?"

Vinnie paused for a moment, looked at Danny, then back at Throttle. "Good point."

"Just don't throw the mattress-and the kid-on the floor to do it."

"Hey! I'm not an idiot, Bro!" Vinnie called out, then gently poked at Danny's face.

Throttle ignored him and made his way to Modo on the sofa. The gray-furred giant was sleeping on his back, the hand of his metal arm touching the ground while his good arm covered his eyes. He snored softly, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. Throttle frowned. He had fought a huge migraine from everything that happened yesterday, and Modo was sleeping like he didn't have a care in the world. What's worse, he snuck in Danny without telling him and Vinnie as soon as it happened, and they had to find out that morning that she was bunking with them. He took in a deep breath to calm himself, then shook Modo by the shoulders.

"Modo, wake up."

Modo grunted and turned on his side, his back facing Throttle. The tan furred leader frowned. He was not going to let him sleep this one off. Throttle grabbed one of the pillows and smacked Modo in the face with it. When the pillow made hard contact with his face, Modo immediately sat up, wide awake. The laser cannon on his bionic arm popped out and he pointed in front of him, ready for action.

"Who did that?! Show yourself!"

"On your right, Bro."

Modo slowly turned his head and looked at Throttle, who had his arms crossed at his chest while holding the pillow to his fingertips. Modo paused for a few moments, gulped, then smiled sheepishly at Throttle hoping to make light of the morning. Throttle knew that Modo knew he was angry. He knew he would want an explanation for what he did. He knew that he was in no mood for Modo to try and sugar coat what he did, or the reasons for doing it. He wanted explanations, and he wanted them right now.

"Hey, Bro. Morning." Modo rubbed the back of his neck with his good arm. The sheepish smile never left his face. "Sorry I didn't radio ya last night. A lot happened."

"Yeah, I noticed that." Throttle frowned. "So, when were you planning to let us know that you were gonna bring a kid to our base?"

"Actually, I was gonna tell ya this morning." Modo sat up. "Last night I-"

"QUIT IT YOU BRAT!"

Throttle and Modo turned their attention to where the noise was coming from. When they did, they saw Danny, who was wide awake and sitting up, smacking Vinnie over and over with the pillow she was hugging in her sleep earlier. Vinnie was blocking her hits with his arms. It was obvious that her hits weren't harming their white-furred friend in the slightest. Rather, he looked more annoyed than anything. When Danny made another swing at his body with the pillow, she was able to hit him straight in the face. Almost as soon as the pillow made contact with his face, Vinnie grabbed it from her. He didn't even have to struggle to pull it out of her hands-he was able to grab it in one quick swoop and yank it right out of her grasp and she fell back onto the mattress from the sheer force. She sat right back up and glared at him, with him glaring back.

"You're lucky I didn't stuff it with rocks! And serves you right for sneaking up on a sleeping girl!"

"Hey I should be the one yelling at you! You snuck into OUR base, climbed into OUR bunks-"

"I didn't sneak in! I was brought here!" Danny paused. "And aren't heroes supposed to be softer and gentler to kids? You're a disgrace to the title!"

"Fine. You can make a complaint at the Superhero License Committee Department." Vinnie paused. "Oh wait. There's no such thing. Even if there was, didn't anyone ever teach you to show respect to adults?"

"You lost all respect when you ruined first good dream I had in ages, Huele Toto!"

"OH THAT'S IT!" Vinnie lunged at Danny, but missed as she rolled over and jumped off the bunk bed. "GET BACK HERE, YOU BRAT!"

With that, Vinnie jumped down to where Danny was previously before she dodged him again. Vinnie started chasing her around the Scoreboard interior. Throttle sighed and massaged his head with the fingertips of his ungloved hand.

"It's too early for this crap," he muttered to himself. He turned and looked back at Modo. "Modo-"

"I know I know. I'm on it." Modo stood up, having already put his boots on during the commotion. With a few quick steps, he immediately grabbed Danny by the collar of her shirt and lifted her off the ground with his bionic arm and pressed his hand to Vinnie's head with his flesh arm to keep him at bay. "Knock it off, the both of you."

"He started it!"

"No way! SHE started it by hitting me!"

"If I wasn't halfway off the ground I'd finish it too!" Danny started kicking in Vinnie's direction, not caring that Modo was separating the two and that she was dangling in the air.

"Don't make me put you both in time out," Modo warned. "I'll do it."

"Time out? Moi? Seriously?" Vinnie asked, using both hands to point to himself. "How old you think I am bro? Five?"

"If you were, everything would make a lot more sense," Throttle joked. "Now if you two kiddies are done playing chase, I think we all need to have ourselves a little chat."

Modo set Danny back onto the floor, but kept his grip on her shirt collar in case she decided to try to tackle Vinnie. His intuition was correct. As soon as her feet touched the floor, Danny attempted to charge at Vinnie, her arms swinging wildly while punching the air hoping her miniature fists would hit him. Realizing her efforts were in vain, she stopped, but kept glaring at the white-furred Martian. In return, he glared back at her, his arms across his chest. Modo shook his head as Throttle rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

"Okay, we're definitely gonna have to separate you both." Modo nudged Danny away. "Why don't ya change out of your sleep clothes and into somethin' else, Lil' Lady?"

"Change where?" Danny tugged on the collar of her shirt forward. "It's daytime and you don't have a curtain up."

Throttle looked around and remembered the stack of spare tires near the door. He and the Bros would sometimes go to the salvage yard and pick up spare parts for the bikes, including tires, so they could help Charley incorporate new additions for whatever situation they needed them for. The stack was taller than Danny, which should give her enough coverage to let her change without any of them seeing her. Not that they would be looking-Throttle and his bros weren't into teenage girls, and they would never think about spying on a woman while she was changing. Even Vinnie, the self-proclaimed "Chick Magnet", had more sense than that.

"There." Throttle jerked his thumb to the tire stack. "You can change back there. We won't look."

Danny blinked, looked back at Modo, who in turned nodded at her. She nodded back, then grabbed the duffle bag and shoes she left under Throttle's bunk and made her way to the tire rack. Once she was behind there, they saw her large oversized black shirt and flannel sleeping bottoms as she tossed them from behind the tire rack and onto the floor nearby. Throttle stared at the shirt and pants on the floor for a moment, then turned his attention back to Modo and Vinnie. Vinnie scrunched up his face.

"Okay, am I the only one who thinks it's weird that a girl practices the same level of hygiene as a guy?" Vinnie asked, pointing at the tire rack. "It's not natural!"

"Vincent, we got more important things to worry about," Throttle reminded his younger Bro, then turned his attention to Modo.

Throttle stared at his gray-furred friend, with Vinnie following suit. He crossed his arms across his chest once more as he stared. There was no point in beating around the bush-Throttle wanted answers and he wanted them right now. Modo took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Bros. But…but I didn't have any choice. There was no safe place to bring her-Charley ma'am was sleepin' last night and I didn't wanna bother her, and with her family gone and Limburger's goon army hot on her tail-"

"Wait wait wait, Big Fella." Throttle had his hands up to tell Modo to stop. "Start at the beginning."

"Well, I was finishing up the root beer run, and I saw Greasepit and some goons about to kill her and-"

"Why didn't you radio us for help?" Vinnie asked. "I mean, come on! Why hog all the fun to yourself, Bro?"

"Vinnie, there wasn't any time to call you both for help. Everything was happenin' all at once."

"Okay." Throttle wanted to piece together everything that happened before he decided where to go from there. Having the full story would make planning everything easier to do. "So you saved her from Greasepit and the goons. What happened after that?"

"I went to drop her off at her home, but when we got there…they were gone."  
"Gone?" Throttle blinked behind his glasses. "Just…gone?"

"Yeah," Modo answered, clutching his fists. He was barely holding back his rage and the urge to hit something. Or someone. "I listened to their answerin' machine. Danny mentioned earlier that her sister's boyfriend had her so 'runs' for him. Not sure what for. Anyway, her family did somethin' illegal, they were exposed by someone-probably another member who exchanged information in hope of a lighter police sentence-and now they're on the run. They ran off and left Danny-girl to fend for herself. I don't remember exactly what the details were-I was too angry to play the message again." His face sobered. "I…I couldn't just leave her there. I mean, what kind of heroes would we be if we left someone-a kid no less-to fend for themselves knowing that they had no one and nowhere to go?"

Throttle inaudibly sighed. He looked back at Vinnie to see his reaction, and saw that his white-furred companion's jaw was hanging low. Even he was in shock over what had taken place that night. Of course Modo would be the kind of guy to take in a stray. He couldn't blame his larger Bro-his heroic sensibilities, machismo, and protective nature would never have allowed the gentle giant in good consciousness to not help out in any way he could. Throttle also knew he was in no position to lecture him. He knew he would have done the same as Modo. Even Vinnie, with all of his bluster and his ego, would not have been able to turn his back on someone in need-even a foul-mouthed teenager.

"So I was right…she is connected somehow in whatever he's up to," Throttle said. "Alright, so after you decided to take the kid home with ya, what happened?"

"We were about to leave, when Greasepit showed up again and broke down the apartment door. Danny-girl and I barely made it out without him or his goons seeing us-we jumped out the window and slid down a drain pipe. We rode around the city for a while to make sure they couldn't track us down, and I brought her back here so she'll be safe." Modo sighed. "I know I should've radioed you Bros before I made the decision, but-"

"Modo, you don't have to say anything. Yesterday's explosion at the diner changed the circumstances. And let's face it-we would've done the same thing." Throttle changed the subject back to the matter at hand. "So whatever Limburger is up to, Danny's family is somehow connected."

"But that overstuffed anchovy's mission is to strip-mine Earth's resources. How would that Squirt and her family-"

"QUIT CALLING ME THAT!"

The three Martian Mice paused and looked back at the tire rack. Danny had stepped out, dressed in a long sleeved dark red shirt that was two sizes too big for her and dark blue jeans. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, individual strands framing her face. Her fists and teeth were clenched as she stormed towards the three mice before she unclenched them to push the sleeves up to her elbows. She arched her right arm back, getting ready to throw a punch at Vinnie for insulting her height when he pressed his hand to her forehead to stop her from moving a step closer. Despite this obstacle, Danny continued to take wild swings at Vinnie, even though he was out of her reach. He looked back at his friends, annoyance plastered on his face once again.

"You know, I hear the circus is in town. We can dump her on some carnies and make her their problem."

"Vincent, quit provoking her," Throttle growled. He wrapped his tail around Danny's waist and lifted her away from Vinnie in the hopes that separating them would stop them from fighting. He set Danny down, but still kept his tail around her waist to make sure she would not try to charge at Vinnie again. She tried to pull on his tail to get it to loosen around her waist, but Throttle refused to budge. "Alright, let's try this again. And this time, no mouthing off, no swearing, and we're not letting you go until you've said everything and we're sure you're not going to attack us."

Danny eventually stopped trying to pull on Throttle's tail and just stood there, frowning. Throttle smirked with satisfaction that he got her to stop.

"Knew you'd see reason." Throttle's face turned serious. "Okay, now do you know why Limburger is after you?"  
"What makes you think I know what El Gordito wants with me?" Danny huffed.

"Because Limburger doesn't go after random civilians without due reason."

Modo knelt down in front of Danny and held one of her hands in his good hand. "Please, Lil' Lady. We just want to know everything we can so we can stop him and protect you. Whatever your family did, he's involved with them. Anything you tell us might help us stop him from trying to kill you."

Danny looked at Modo for a moment, then sighed. For that moment, the frown on her face softened, and she took a breath.

"Honestly, I don't really know myself," she started. "I was eating lunch when I overheard him and that dumba-" she stopped when Modo and Throttle frowned at her. Both hoped their frown would be a reminder to her to not swear. "That oil-covered dummy. They were talking about some sort of plan…I don't completely remember the name. It began with an R. Rep…Rep…"

"Repetition?" Modo offered.

"No…no it was something else.

"Repeat?" Vinnie offered.

"Vincent, that's the same thing."

"Hey at least I'm trying!"

"Maybe you'll wanna redeem that effort and try something else," Modo offered.

"That's it!" Danny snapped her fingers when Modo said that. "It was Operation Redemption! I think…I couldn't really hear, but that's what it sounded like."

"Operation Redemption?" Throttle blinked behind his glasses. "What's that?"

"I told you, I don't know. I don't have super hearing like you three." Danny rolled her eyes. "As to how my family is connected, that's something I don't know either. Keith's not in the construction business like Limburger Industries and-"

"Yeah kiddo…Limburger doesn't do construction or real estate," Throttle said. "He's a Plutarkian-really ugly and really fat alien fish who go around the cosmos ripping planets of their natural resources for their homeworld, leaving other populations to become extinct."

"Wait…he's an alien too!?" Danny paused for a moment. "…I'm officially caught up in an intergalactic war right in my own home turf. There is a God!" Danny looked up at the ceiling. "Thank you, George Lucas."

The three mice rolled their eyes. With everything that had happened, Danny was not phased in the least that Lawrence Limburger was an alien in disguise as a human. Then again, being comfortable in the care of three humanoid mice with red antennae who could ride motorcycles, combined with her morbid mentality, were signs that she by no means "normal" compared to other humans. Not that they had many examples to go by, but it still unsettled them slightly how easily she accepted aliens living on Earth. She was excited to first learn about alien mice from Mars living on Earth-not scared. And now mentioning that Lawrence Limburger, Chicago's most beloved and charismatic businessman and philanthropist, was an alien, she accepted it without questioning and being in shock or denial. Instead, her brain processed it like it was an exclusive game she got to be invited in. Maybe it was her way of working through the trauma she experienced yesterday…and based off what Modo told them, her whole life. Either way, the three couldn't decide if her enthusiasm for being part of an intergalactic war was a good thing, or if her state of mind needed to be examined.

"Forget dumping her on circus folk-I think a mental asylum would be a better fit for the pipsqueak." As soon as Vinnie said that, Danny swung her right let in his direction to try and kick him. Fortunately for him, her leg was too small to reach out and he was too far away for her.

Throttle pulled Danny closer with his tail, tightening it around her waist. Not enough to cut off her air supply, but enough for her to feel how strong his tail was and what he had the potential to do. He hoped it would be a reminder about the promise she made before. He glared at Vincent. Even though Danny broke her promise by trying to attack them, he couldn't let Vinnie get off scot free for provoking her. Him and his big mouth! However, Modo had already beaten Throttle to the punch and smacked him upside the head with his flesh hand. Vinnie reached back to rub the back of his head, wincing in pain.

"What was that for!?"

"For opening your big mouth, Vinnie," Modo glared. "Why did you have to provoke her like that-or at all?"

"Enough, everyone," Throttle ordered. They had to stay focused on the important issue: finding out Limburger's newest scheme. "Focus here." He turned his attention back to Danny. "Okay Danny-girl. So Limburger saw you eavesdropping and he wants you out of the picture because he thinks you might interfere with his newest scheme. That much we get, but there's still a lot of unanswered questions. Your fa-" Throttle paused for a moment, remembering how touchy of a subject this could be. "The people you were staying with. Modo said they're on the run for something illegal they did, and that that overripe cheeselog is connected somehow."

"…Coke."

"A little early in the morning for soda, isn't it kid?" Vinnie joked.

"No, I mean what Keith's job is in. He's a coke dealer. As in Cocaine." She paused. "At least that's what I think he was in the last time I checked before he took off. That's what he did when he started dating my sister and had us move in with him, and what he used to have me help out with."

"Wait-you helped push drugs in Chi-town!?" Modo asked incredulously. At that moment it looked like he wanted to sit down, or throw up.

"No!" Danny paused again. "Not directly, anyway. I'd tell his dealers where to pick up the shipment to avoid exposure from the cops." The three mice started glaring at her, which made her frown in return. "Don't look at me like that! It was either that or live in the gutter…or at least a gutter without a roof."

"And it didn't bother you, even a little, that you were helping people get high and killing them!?" Vinnie asked.

"Newsflash, Mousy: morals and ethics take a back seat when you need to eat and live," Danny argued. "Besides, the users make the choice to buy the stuff. Not like they have a gun to their heads being forced to buy it. Not that I'm aware of anyway. And like I told you before: I never directly sold any drugs or told users where to get them. I was just the messenger for Keith to his dealers."

"A little newsflash for you, Little Lady: the messenger usually gets shot first," Modo lectured.

Throttle rubbed his temples again, trying to keep calm and process everything that was going on. Knowing about Danny's involvement with pushing drugs was very disturbing for him to say the least. What was worse, how nonchalant she was at admitting her part in her family's drug cartel. Granted her role was minor, but it still had a direct impact on the lives of those willing to do anything and everything for a quick fix. On the other hand, he also acknowledged that she had no say in the matter. As she told them already, it was either be a drug messenger or die. Logic reminded him that most people would do anything to survive, even if it meant taking part in illegal acts. And from what Modo had gathered about her family life, and its dysfunctionalism, learning about her involvement made him sympathize for her more.

But even knowing this, it still did not add up to him. How was her being a drug messenger get her on Limburger's hit list? That was where it gnawed on him more. He couldn't accept that Limburger wanted her dead for her involvement in the drug cartel. Granted, having his hands in the illegal drug market would make it easier for him to acquire funds to buy out more of Chicago, but it would have been too noticeable for someone like him to be connected to drugs. He preferred to be subtle with his plans, or at least attempted to be subtle. No, Danny being on Limburger's hit list had to be for a different reason.

"Okay, this is getting us nowhere." Throttle spoke up. "Focus, Bros. This isn't like Limburger. There's no way Plutark would be interested in collecting cocaine or any drugs like that. They want natural resources-not narcotics. Besides, cornering the illegal drug market is too risky for Limburger since he wants to preserve his image as "Chicago's savior". The city finding out about that would ruin him for sure. He's too smart for that." He looked down at Danny. "Is there anything else you can remember kiddo? Anything that sticks out."

"Well…last night before I got cornered, I saw that walking oil tank at one of the processing labs." She paused. "They measure the cocaine and get it ready to be distributed to the users. I was brought there by one of the gang members. I was trying to sneak out while they were busy, ran into that big greaseball, and…I think you know where this is going."

"Yeah, I'm definitely seeing a pattern here," Vinnie agreed.

"So whatever Limburger is up to is happening at that crack lab, or at least there could be patrons who know about it. We'll definitely have to scope it out tonight Bros, and go from there."

"So what do you do in the mean time?" Danny asked. "Random drag races? Bar fights?"

Throttle paused when he realized there was a hiccup in his plan. Where to keep Danny in the mean time? Leaving her alone in the Scoreboard was out of the question; too many dangerous objects for her to either get a hold of or misuse. Taking her along for a stake out at Limburger tower was also out of the question: they would be delivering her right in their enemy's hands. Throttle also couldn't fathom the idea of having Charley help out. She was already on Limburger's hit list not only for her property being one of the few businesses in operation in her neighborhood, but also for her association with them. Adding Danny to the mix would endanger both ladies, and he did not want to add more tension to Charley's already chaotic life. Adding more stress was that all the available social service agencies were closed due to it being the weekend. To put it simply, he was in a huge quandary with what to do with the teenager.

Throttle looked back at Modo and Vinnie, both of whom shared the same clueless look on their faces. It was clear they had no idea how to solve this issue either. This was beyond anyone's realm of expertise, even Modo's. Throttle looked back at Danny for a moment, then back at his bros. There was only one option: the lesser of the three evils.

"We can't leave her here, Bros. And taking her with us on patrol is out of the question too."

"You're not suggesting what I think you are, are ya?" Vinnie's eyes widened.

"I don't see any other option, Vincent."

"What option?" Danny stepped in between the three. "If you're gonna make decisions about me, I have a right to be included in the conversation!"

Throttle rolled his eyes behind his glasses, and the others groaned. Couldn't she go five minutes without mouthing off?

"Manners, Little Lady." Modo gently but firmly tugged on the girl's ponytail to remind her of her deal, then looked back at Throttle. "Charley-ma'am is not gonna be happy with us, Bro."

"She knows more about this kind of stuff than we do," Throttle countered. "Maybe she'll know someone who has experience in this sort of situation. Let's face it Bros: this is out of our league here, and it's not like we have options."

"I'm all for crazy risks Bro, but you're bringing in someone from the drug trafficking industry to Charley-girl! How do we know the kid's not gonna-" Vinnie began.

"Hey-the topic of discussion is still here!" Danny crossed her arms over her chest. "And she'd like to know what you three are talking about!"

Throttle bit his lip to keep from yelling at Danny for her blatant lack of respect. Suddenly Vinnie's idea of dumping her on circus folk was becoming very tempting to do. Fortunately, Modo was more adept at dealing with children, both complacent and troublesome, and placed his flesh hand on her head to calm the black-haired youth down.

"We're gonna head over to a friend's place to help us out with everything that's happened. She's gonna help us figure out where to go from here so we can stop Limburger from doing whatever he's doing that put you on his hit list."

"Oh." She paused for a moment. "Or you can just ta-"

"No," all three mice said.

"What do you mean 'no'? You don't even know what I was gonna ask!" Danny threw her arms up in frustration.

"We're not taking you with us," Throttle said. "Spying on Limburger and staking out a seedy dive are no places to bring a kid. And since you're on that fat fish's radar, bringing you along would be like bringing a puppy to a pack of starving wolves."

"Besides, stakeouts and hero work are reserved for us macho mice," Vinnie smirked, flexing one of his arms. "No kids allowed."

"And yet you're going with." Danny scoffed, rolling her eyes. "That just screams hypocrisy."

"Where on this studly body does it say I'm a kid, Squirt?"

"Well, you whine and boast like you're still in kindergarten," Danny quipped. "And your face screams 'dumbass', with the vocabulary to back it up. So…pretty much everywhere."

"At least I'm not some scrawny brat."

"YOU'RE DEAD MOUSY!"

With that, Danny lunged at Vinnie, or at least attempted to lunge at him. She had forgotten Throttle had wrapped his tail around her waist to keep her from attacking anyone, and was stuck. She settled with swinging her arms violently at the white-furred Martian, who just laughed at her misfortune. Throttle sighed as he watched Danny trying to fight Vinnie while Modo tried to both calm down Danny and reprimand Vinnie for his short-term memory, hanging his head and dropping his shoulders. If this fight was any indicator, it was going to be a long and mentally draining day.

* * *

Limburger listened attentively to the message machine Greasepit brought him that morning. After the message had finished playing, he turned it off and started rubbing his temples with his gloved hands. The day had barely started, and already everything he worked so hard to keep under the radar of his arch nemesis was becoming undone. It was bad enough that the human who was eavesdropping was still alive, but now human authority figures were alerted of what was going on, and he had lost one of his suppliers. To make matters worse, the Biker Mice were spotted twice defending this child, and were most likely now involved with stopping his scheme. Which meant that it was only a matter of time before they would step in to bring his latest scheme to provide needed supplies to Plutark to a halt. To put it simply, things were not going well for Limburger at all.

Limburger looked at Greasepit, who as usual stared blankly at his employer. Very typical of him. He did not know whether to look happy, angry, or scared unless he himself looked that way. Or if he saw something go wrong and could put the clues together himself. Having a wrench being thrown in his scheme was frustrating enough, but to have employees who could not do their job only added to the stress.

"This is most distressing news," Limburger finally said. "First we have a loose link in the chain in our latest scheme to ship services to Plutark. Now someone who works for a supplier of ours has decided to come clean to the local authorities, and cost us one of our top suppliers in the city. And to make matters worse, you saw that those wretched rodents are with this delinquent!?" He stood up suddenly, slamming his fists on his desk.

"Y-yes Boss." Greasepit, acting sensibly for once in his career, backed away when Limburger stood up. "Wese all saw dat twerp got saved by dem mice twice yesterday. And wese looked all over da city for her last night, but no signs 'a her."

"Then there's no doubt about it. Those wretched rodents have obviously taken this gutter rat in under their guardianship for the time being in exchange for information on what we were discussing the following day. Blast it!"

In his frustration, Limburger pushed his chair aside with such force that it fell over. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Greasepit jumping back, obviously scared. Good. He wanted him to be terrified of him. He wanted the weight of the situation to sink in his abnormally thick skull, and realize how dire the situation he and everyone was in due to his incompetence. Granted the chances of such a realization on his part would be short lived, but a Plutarkian could hope couldn't he?

"And everything was going so well too. We were finally able to rebuild the tower without any suspicions from the city, found a way to ship our newest requested order back to Plutark without interference from those rodents, and the Biker Mice had no means of finding us out. Now everything I have worked so hard for to get back into Lord Camembert's good graces is at risk! All because of some urban underclass statistic!"

With that, Limburger smashed the side of his fist against the window of his office. Not hard enough to break the glass, but enough to make them shake. He sat back down on his office chair, rubbing his face once more. Gradually, his grimace turned into a cold smile and he began to chuckle. Greasepit scratched his head confused at Limburger's sudden mood change, but at the moment he did not care. He plucked a worm from his dish and slurped the creature through his large fat lips, his smirk still on his face.

"Perhaps all is not lost after all."

"I'm not sure I's following, Boss." Greasepit continued to scratch his head underneath his red baseball cap.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Limburger pulled a handful of worms from the bowl. "We all know those machismo mice love to be the heroes, and they would never think twice about rescuing a child. Knowing those rodents, they will not be able to suppress their heroic sensibilities and will wish to come to the young lady's rescue." He paused for a moment to slurp a couple of worms into his mouth. "And when they do, we will be ready for them."

"But Boss, wese held lots of peoples for hostage before and dey still beat us and rescued dems," Greasepit countered. "How will dis time be any different?"

"Because unlike before, it won't be merely one human they're trying to protect. Remember the shipment due to Plutark, my dear boy? We're not merely sending any ordinary resources to my beloved world after all. No, what we're sending is far more precious than anyone realizes."

"Duh, what boss?"

"The key to a new weapon." Limburger stood up once more. "I've seen how many humans behave when they use these narcotics. The rush it brings them, and the temporary escape from whatever they are trying to escape from. And then there's the downward spiral after the high: no appeal for sleep, food, and extreme anger and rage. Under normal circumstances these would be deadly; not ideal for Plutark. However, if the makeup of any Earth narcotic can be altered to have these emotions without these negative side effects, then they would be ideal for improving the fighting capabilities in Plutark's military. Invading and destroying enemy resistance would become easier, making us even more a universal superpower to be reckoned with." He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a lighter and a cigar, and lit the end. "Of course I would have to make sure to make sure our involvement in the drug cartel would not be noticeable. But eventually the residents of Chicago would have difficulty accessing these narcotics. And of course Chicago's authorities would not be concerned with less and less of these substances available. In fact they would be relieved as it would mean less work for them. And of course the city would be grateful, and no doubt would assume that my presence was a significant factor in the decrease of drug use among city residents. A win-win situation: praise from Chicago for fixing our society's moral foundation, while helping to build up Plutark's military strength and prowess. All without anyone being the wiser."

"But won't people gets mad if dey can get their drugs Boss?"

Limburger brought the lit cigar to his mouth, inhaled, then let out a puff of smoke. "The users may, but not the majority of society. After all, if natural resources go missing people become panicked and the Biker Mice rush in. But if something such as cocaine or heroin is no longer available, so many will turn a blind eye."

"But now da kid knows about you and the drugs. So da Biker Mice will knows too."

"But that's where the surprise comes in, dear boy." Limburger tapped his cigar, letting the ash fall on the ashtray on his desk. He let another chuckle escape his lips. "Karbunkle has been working on altering the chemical makeup of the narcotics we have been purchasing from our neighborhood dealers for our own personal use. To improve fighting abilities and lethality for my personal goon army naturally. Now, if this urban gutter rat does know as much as I suspect, and lures the mice to where my operations are occurring, then we will be there. And when they arrive…it will be a trap not even they can escape from."

Limburger laughed once more, his voice filling the room, and brought the cigar to his lips again.

"Ah, humans. Always the weakness."


	10. Chapter 10

Charley walked downstairs from her room into the garage, rubbing her eyes. It was Sunday, so the Last Chance was closed for the day. That was a good thing for her, as there was still so much work she had: floors to clean, bills that needed to be paid, papers to organize, back orders to finish up, and other odds and ends to complete. And that was for just her business-who knows what repairs her Martian friends' bikes needed. There was also the matter of whatever last minute emergency would require her immediate attention, which, if involved her friends, would take up an entire day. Truly, there was never such a thing as a day off, especially for someone running one's own business.

_Whatever happened to those lazy Sunday mornings of just sipping coffee and collecting your thoughts?_ Charley paused for a moment.  _Speaking of mornings, where are the guys? It's not like them to be late, especially at the thought of free food._

Just then, the faint roar of motorcycle engines caught Charley's ear. She smiled to herself. The Bros were right on cue. Though something was off: she didn't hear the usual heavy metal or hard rock music they loved to belt out on their radios, or their own off key singing of their favorite Earth band. In fact, the music they were listening to didn't sound anything like what they usually did. The singer sounded…feminine. And while there were women who had their own rock bands, Charley knew the Bros were more into Metallica, Guns 'n Roses and Aerosmith. Not someone like...was that No Doubt they were listening to? And were they playing "Just a Girl"? Now she was convinced it wasn't the Bros coming up to her garage.

_But who else can have bikes with engines with those distinct sounds?_

Charley couldn't decide if they were listening to the band on a dare or if there was something else involved. Even if they were being tortured, or their lives were hanging in the balance, they would never even entertain the thought of listening to music that was not heavy metal or rock related. And while No Doubt was a rock band, it wasn't the style of rock they liked. But she doubted they were kidnapped-there would be no music at all and the bikes would have come to her at a much faster pace.

The engine roars got louder, as did the music. Charley stepped to the side to allow the bikes an uninterrupted entrance. The three Martian motorcycles pulled in to the entrance and they, and the music, automatically came to a halt. Charley took notice that the three Martian riders had an extra guest with them. Charley couldn't make out who it was, but noticed there were a pair of thin arms wrapped around Modo's waist…or at least they were attempting to. She noticed those arms were covered with gray sleeves, a gray darker than Modo's fur, and a set of feminine legs clad in jeans behind Modo's, but couldn't make out any more details.

"Finally!" Vinnie exclaimed. "Sweet sweet silence! Seriously, who the hell dubbed that crap 'music'?"

"You take that back! No Doubt is genius!" a feminine voice exclaimed.

"If that crap counts as music, then I weep for the fate of this generation."

"Relax, Vinnie," Throttle smirked. "It wasn't Mado-"

"Do NOT mention her name in front of me!" Vinnie exclaimed and pointed at Throttle. "What she sings is NOT music!"  
"Vinnie, calm down," Modo teased. "No Doubt was on the radio and Danny-girl's a fan of the band and the song. Besides, it had a good beat and it wasn't one of those boybands that're still polluting the air waves. I think there's some hope for this generation."

"Guys?" Charley wrapped her arms across her chest, an eyebrow raised. "Something you care to tell me?"

"Yeah." Vinnie pulled off his helmet and looked straight at Charley. "I'd like my eggs scrambled with a side of bacon, Sweetheart."

Charley rolled her eyes. She could tell by Vinnie's smirk he was trying make light of what was going on and not making an actual request. But she wasn't in the mood to put up with his chauvinism right then, even if it was merely playful banter on Vinnie's part. They had a bigger issue to deal with than food.

"Yeah, sure. Bacon and eggs. I'll get right on that," Charley said sarcastically. "How about you first tell me about your new lady friend?"  
"Oh…yeah, we were just about to get to that, Charley-girl." Throttle looked back at Modo expectantly. "Big Guy?"

"I was just about to, Bro." Modo looked back at Charley. "Charley-ma'am, this here is Danielle Aguirrez. Danny-girl, this is our best friend Charlene Davidson, or 'Charley' as she likes to be called. She's the one who helped us get accustomed to life on Earth. And-let's all face it-the reason we're still alive."

Charley saw Danny reach up and pull the spare white motorcycle helmet off her head. Charley recognized that helmet-that was the one the guys sometimes kept on them when Charley would ride with one of them and she didn't have hers available. When Danny pulled the helmet off, a long wave of black hair spilled out from the helmet to her waist. It was clear this girl did not put stock in her appearance; her hair was choppy, uneven, and completely disheveled. It also looked like she hadn't washed it, or those locks needed more than one cleaning. Her hair was in dire need of a wash, and a trim. Or better yet, to just hack off most of it and put those mats, tangles and split ends out of their misery. Her shirt and sweatshirt were at least two sizes too big for her, like she just chose those clothing articles at random and slipped them on in the dark. Her jeans had a large hole in the left knee, and the right thigh had a large black stain. Her clothes didn't need to be washed; they needed to be burned to prevent the spread of potential diseases.

But what struck out to Charley the most were Danny's eyes. They were a dark brown color, but it wasn't just the color that got her attention. While on the surface she looked cool and collected, the young girl's eyes had several emotions swirling in her all at once fighting for dominance. Obviously this kid has been through hell. If she could sense it, Charley was sure the Bros felt it and much more strongly than she did.

"So you're the famous Danny I've heard Modo talk about." Charley smiled softly at the teenage girl. "Trust me-good things."

"Wow, didn't know I was already so famous. A pleasure really." Danny smiled wryly. She glanced around the garage. "Nice headquarters. Hiding in plain sight from civilians and villains…well whatever works." She paused then looked back at Charley. "So where is it?"

"…where is what?"  
"Duh. The spaceship! If you've been with these guys for three years I know you got one in the works somewhere around here!"

"Guys? What did you tell her?" Charley looked at the three mice, her arms still crossed.

"Nothing about a space ship, Charley-girl," Throttle answered. "I swear it."

"Don't take it seriously Sweetheart." Vinnie smiled waving it off casually. "This kid has been reading way too many comics and has watched one too many episodes of  _Star Trek_  and  _Star Wars_. They're all permanently etched into her brain and bloodstream."

"… _Star Wars_  is a film trilogy genius," Danny frowned at Vinnie.

"Danny." Modo gave a gentle tug on Danny's hair. "You promised best behavior. And we told you before: we don't have a spaceship. It was destroyed in our crash and it's beyond repair."

"One-I am on best behavior. Didn't say a single curse word or insult anyone." Danny paused. "Two-you told me your friend is a mechanical genius and inventor. Like Tony Stark with watered down sass. If she's as smart as you say she is, then she must have a spaceship in the works!"

At that moment, Charley pressed a hand to her forehead and shook her head. She had to hang her head low so no one could see her smile. While there was a part of her that felt exhausted from Danny's insistence about the space, she was also flattered for the comparison to Tony Stark. While she wasn't an avid reader of comics, she knew enough to know who was who in the  _Marvel_  and  _DC_  universes, and was flattered to be considered on par with one of the most well-known superheroes of the comic universe. It was also flattering that she was considered smart and resourceful enough to build a space ship and be able to hide it without any one-private citizen or government official-seeing it.

Charley also thought it was also hilarious to see the guys trying-and failing-to convince their new friend that they were indeed Earth bound and there was no conspiracy going on in her garage. They were clearly not used to dealing with someone who was an avid comic and science fiction geek. Charley had personal experience with those who were science fiction fans, and while most could tell the difference between fact and fiction, it did not stop them from taking themes from comics and movies and applying them to the real world. She was also familiar enough with the science fiction genre to recognize a rule of heroic teams: if one of the members was an inventor, there was a chance the inventor either had a spaceship available, or was working on one. Unfortunately, the Biker Mice did not know this rule due to their knowledge of Earth culture being limited outside of music and sports. Even Vinnie, even though he tried to deny it, had limited knowledge of science fiction despite being a closet fan of  _Star Trek_  and  _Doctor Who_. But the three mice were not comic book enthusiasts so they did not know how to talk to someone who was so passionate about this genre.

"Danny-girl, think about this: if Charley-girl did have a spaceship, don't you think you'd have seen it already?" Throttle asked Danny. "It would take up the whole garage space, or the back lot behind it. Not something you can keep hidden from the public eye."

"Good point." Danny paused. "But here's a good counter argument: if the city has not noticed three alien mice riding motorcycles living with them for three years, or that one of their leading industrialists is an alien fish, then don't you think it's possible the public wouldn't notice a space ship here? I mean your tails alone should have given you all away a long time ago!"

Throttle paused, and then looked back and forth between Vinnie and Modo. All three had perplexed looks on their faces, not knowing how to counter Danny's counter argument. Not like they could. Still, to see Throttle looking stumped was what caught Charley by surprise the most. He was usually the one who could come up with a witty comeback first, or the first to rebound from anything. Yes, it was safe to say this was out of their area of expertise. And Danny was clearly enjoying this.

"Hah! I stumped you! I win!"

"Okay, time out." Charley stepped in between the three mice and Danny. As entertaining as their little debate was, there were still questions that needed to be answered. "Guys, can we talk in private? Please?"

The mice followed Charley to the kitchen space of the garage. Danny was about to follow the four until Vinnie stopped and pressed his hand to her forehead to halt the teenager's movements.

"Who says you can come with?"

"She said guys, which is all inclusive."

"Yeah, by 'guys' she means the males." Vinnie paused. "And who gave you permission to be a smartass?"

"The same ones who gave you permission to be a dumba-OW."

Modo tugged on Danny's ponytail before she could finish her sentence. She reached behind her to feel where Modo tugged, her hands pressed to the back of her head. She then looked up at Modo.

"Sorry. Old habits die hard."

"Well try harder." Modo placed his flesh hand on Danny's shoulder. "Trust me on this Danny-girl: it's better you don't hear what we talk about. Pretty intense stuff."

"Just stay put until we get back," Throttle said. "And don't touch-or take-anything while we're gone."

"Hey! Show me a little trust!" Danny threw up her arms in frustration. "I don't steal from Mom 'n Pop shops!" Danny paused. "And why am I the only one who gets a lecture on swearing? Vinnie used a curse word too!"

"That's a good point." Modo gave a hard tug on Vinnie's right ear.

"Ow!" Vinnie reached up and massaged his ear. "What the hell Bro!"

"There. No favoritism shown to anyone who breaks a rule. That better, Danny-girl?" Modo asked.  
"….it's a start."

"Bros, c'mon," Throttle urged, pushing them inside the living area.

Once they were inside the kitchen area, Charley waited for the three mice to take their respective seats on the small table she had in her kitchen area. It was a good thing she had them come inside out of the garage area because she wasn't sure what to say when they pulled up with the teenage girl, or what could be said in the teen's presence anyway. Doubtful it would matter to her with her casual use of swears, but Charley was taught better than that, and she didn't want to make her friends feel terrible for their actions. Charley knew was hardwired in the mice's systems to be heroes and save anyone and everyone they came across. Especially Modo, with his affection for children and how quickly they warmed up to him.

"Charley-ma'am, I know what we talked about yesterday," Modo began. "But things changed last night and-"

"Modo, it's okay." Charley held up her hands in a defensive gesture. "I'm not angry. To be honest, I'm more surprised at myself for not seeing this coming."

"Trust me, Charley-girl: the same goes for me," Throttle snickered. "And we all grew up together."

"So before I say anything else, what happened?" Charley asked.

Modo told Charley, Throttle and Vinnie, in more detail, everything that had happened before coming to the Last Chance that morning. All three listened as Modo retold the story of Danny having to be rescued-again-from the clutches of Greasepit and his thug army, of being abandoned by her drug involved family, and now being on Limburger's hit list for reasons even the mice were still working out. Even Charley couldn't figure out Limburger's reasons for getting involved in the drug cartel. Not only was it not his style, but she doubted Plutark was in need of narcotics. Charley was sure there were aliens who had addictions just like humans, but she doubted Plutark would consider cocaine or other narcotics on their priority resource list.

Charley was also trying to keep herself under control from what Modo had told her. These were stories she was unfortunately familiar with due to the mice's visits to the local orphanage during the holidays and other weekends. But no matter how familiar they were to her, it was still hard to accept. Charley knew if it was heart wrenching for Danny, it was affecting the bros even more, especially for Modo. She could tell he was fighting the urge to hurt someone. Or rather find Danny's family and make sure they get what they deserve for everything they did. Charley saw how hard Modo was clenching his bionic hand, shaking with suppressed rage. She was sure if he clenched any harder the fingers would dig into the palm and the wires would be exposed and short circuit, rendering his hand useless.

"Modo, your hand!"

"Huh?" Modo looked at his bionic hand and noticed the dent marks his fingers left on his metal palm. "Oh…s-sorry, Charley ma'am. I…I guess I'm more upset about it than I thought."

"I'd be more concerned if you weren't upset with what happened." Charley took Modo's bionic hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I know you told us you weren't in a position to help the kid out Charley-girl," Throttle cut in. "But things have changed now. Like it or not, Danny-girl's caught up in this war of ours. She has information on what Limburger's up to…or at least he thinks she does since he's out for her. With her family on the run, she's even more vulnerable. You know more about this kind of stuff than we do."

"Taking her to the cops was out of the question," Vinnie added. "What with her family's career choice and all."

"We know this is a lot to ask from you Charley," Throttle said. "Don't worry, we have no intention of having her stay here. We all know it's too risky with her background. We just thought maybe you might know someone who could-"

"No." Charley put her hand up to stop Throttle before he could finish what he was going to say. "Seriously guys: do you remember what I've done and what I've survived before meeting that kid? I've been kidnapped by-and have sometimes escaped-men who are in many ways physically stronger than me. I've learned how to handle technology centuries beyond Earth's most advanced mechanisms. I've been transported to Mars and escaped the head slaver who tried to make me his own personal sex toy. Helped destroy equipment produced by alien invaders. I would go on about my accomplishments, but it would take all day," Charley smiled. "Providing temporary care for a teenager with a mouth who was thrown into a drug trafficking ring will be a cakewalk compared to all that. I can let her crash here for the night. Then tomorrow I'll call child services and they'll see about finding a placement-"

"Placement? You mean like a foster home!?" Modo suddenly stood up from his chair. "We can't send her to a foster home! She'll be moved from one place to another, and who knows if the foster family will be good to her! And once she's eighteen she'll be kicked out of the system with no support or anyone to rely on! She'll be living on the streets and be a prime target for pimps and drug dealers!"

"Modo…before we say anything else, where do you get this stuff from?" Vinnie raised his eyebrows at him.

"Were you up all night the other week binge watching  _LA Law_  again?" Throttle asked, pushing down his glasses to look at Modo with his red eyes.

"N-no! No of course not!"

Charley, Throttle and Vinnie each looked at Modo. Modo paused for what felt like an eternity, even though it was only a few seconds. Modo twiddled his fingers together for a moment, and then looked down at the ground, a blush plastered on his face.  
"I-it was  _Judging Amy_."

Charley snorted, then looked down and covered her mouth so the Mice couldn't see or hear her laughing. Vinnie just covered his face while Throttle looked down at the table while shaking his head, the two Martian males groaning in disappointment. Modo loved his court dramas. And it didn't surprise her that he would take an interest in  _Judging Amy,_ which centered on the juvenile justice system. Try as she did, Charley couldn't stop the snort that came from her mouth. But she was able to stop herself before it went further. Humor would come at another time.

"I'm sorry Modo. But we talked about this yesterday-living with us is not an option. Child services is better equipped to handle this sort of thing than we are."

"But what about Limburger?" Modo asked. "He's after Danny-girl, and wherever social services takes, her he'll find her. She won't be safe anywhere." "We'll call them tomorrow after we shut down Limburger's operation," Throttle said. "Tonight."

"Finally!" Vinnie thrust his elbows behind him with his fists clenched. "I got so much adrenaline in my system that I need to get out, and now!"

"What about afterwards?" Modo asked. "Danny already got killed almost three times in one day to find us. If we let social services place her somewhere she doesn't know or like, what will stop her from leaving the place they take her to? It'll be a never-ending cycle. Even if she doesn't run off, I doubt she'll forgive us. She'll think we betrayed and abandoned her, like everyone else has in her life. It could be the one thing that sends her over the edge. And I doubt she'll be able to come back from it."

"Let me guess: there was an episode about that in  _Judging Amy_?" Vinnie asked.

"No. It was from an episode of  _Law and Order: Special Victims Unit_ ," Modo answered as though it was obvious.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there Modo," Throttle answered, though the tone of his voice had a hint of doubt. "One situation at a time."

"Question: what if Limburger decides to come here to look for her?" Charley asked while she was smoothing out Modo's bionic palm to fix the dents she made. "Modo said they tried to make a grab for her at her apartment last night and saw Modo with her. So they'll probably try here next."

"We thought of that too Charley-girl." Throttle looked at Modo. "Modo, Vincent and I will stake out Limburger tower to find out what that overstuffed anchovy is up to. You up for backing up Charley and giving her some aid in case they come over and try to make a grab for Danny-girl?"

"Let's face it: you're the only one who can talk to that kid for more than five minutes without wanting to destroy something," Vinnie said. "That and she responds to you better than she does to us."

Modo opened his mouth to say something, paused as if to think it over, then closed his mouth. No one could come up with anything to add or to counter Vinnie's point. What was more, neither of them could believe that Vinnie, of all the mice, actually said something that made sense. All of them stared at Vinnie, who just blinked and sat in his seat for a few moments.  
"Why does everyone do that when I say something that actually makes sense?"

"Because you rarely do," Modo answered.

"Guys, not now." Charley rolled her eyes. They had more important issues to deal with.

"But seriously Modo. Would you?" Throttle cut in.

"Of course I will." Modo paused. "I promise you Charley-ma'am: Danny-girl won't be a problem. And I'll keep you both safe if Limburger tries to make a move on us."

Just then, everyone heard a high pitched scream coming from the garage. Charley and everyone rushed out of the kitchen space to the garage. Modo was the first to rush out, the blaster of his arm cannon out. Throttle and Vinnie followed suit, their blasters in their hands ready to back their larger Bro up in case he was outnumbered in whatever emergency was occurring, Charley being the last one out. Charley looked to Vinnie's side to see what they had stopped for. What she saw caught her by surprise. Danny was on her back, staring at Vinnie's red racing motorbike with its motor running. Throttle's and Modo's motorcycles stood next to Vinnie's cycle on both sides, as if joining in on a stare down against Danny. Modo deactivated his arm cannon and helped Danny up from the ground, and the three motorcycles slowly backed away. Dany brushed the dust and whatever imaginary dirt was on her already dirty jeans nonchalantly, trying to appear as un-phased as possible. Charley inwardly rolled her eyes. While she only just met Danny, she spent enough time with the Biker Mice to recognize when one was trying not show he or she was scared or emotional about something.

"You okay, Little Lady?" Modo asked.  
"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine." Danny paused. "Note to self: keep a helmet with me at all times when near alien motorbikes."

"Care to tell us what happened, Kid?" Throttle put his blaster away and had his hands at his hips.

"I don't-"

"Danielle." Modo looked down at her, using a stern voice. "Be honest. Like my gray-furred Momma always used to say: Honesty is the best policy."

"And we're good at picking up lies," Vinnie added.

"Fine," Danny sighed irritably. "I got bored waiting for you to come back, and I wanted to see how these wicked cool bikes work. So I went over to one to see what features each has. But when I climbed over the red one, it threw a hissy fit and threw me off. Then the other bikes joined in to help it gang up on me."

"Maybe I should've warned you before we had our private discussion." Modo patted Danny on her shoulder. "Our bikes are very temperamental over who rides or touches them."

"They only let people who they know touch them, let alone ride them. Each Martian bike has a bond with its individual owner, so the only ones who are allowed to be so close to them are the owners who bond with them. If others who aren't their owners touch them, it's because the owner is nearby in case someone tries to do something," Throttle added. "That's why they let Charley touch them when we first came to Earth after we just met. It wasn't until later on after getting used to her that they warmed up to her." Throttle frowned at Danny. "Which is another reason why we told you not to touch anything."

"Plus, we activated the safety on the bikes to prevent others-specifically nosy and smart-mouthed teenagers who don't listen when we say don't touch anything-from causing damage to the bikes and whatever may be nearby," Vinnie concluded. He paused when everyone looked at him again. "What? I maybe a destructive maniac, but I'm a responsible destructive maniac!"  
"Now there's an oxymoron for ya," Modo quipped.

"I don't know what surprises me more: you three putting safeties on your bikes so nothing blows up that isn't done by you, or Vinnie using himself and responsible in the same sentence." Charley paused. "It's official: I'm still asleep and this is all a dream."

"I can help prove otherwise, Sweetheart." Vinnie wiggled his eyebrows lewdly.

"Vinnie!" everyone but Danny yelled at Vinnie.

"What?" Vinnie smiled innocently. "I was just gonna take off some of my fur and sprinkle it on her arm and ask if she felt that."

"Yeah…I haven't even known you for a full day and even I know that's a load of  _mierda_." Danny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest.

"…okay, none of us speak Spanish, but I know that was a cuss word." Throttle frowned at Danny.

"You know, since we rescued you from the streets, gave you shelter and are protecting you from the alien menace that wants you dead, you should show us all a little more respect." Vinnie looked down at Danny, a disapproving look on his face.

Charley rolled her eyes when Danny stuck her tongue out at Vinnie. This was all too familiar to her. She would often see Vinnie doing idiotic action similar actions to Danny and scoff as though he was innocent of the matter, or that he did nothing to deserve any criticism. Now the tables have turned and now the Bros were the ones who had to teach someone respect and self-control. Maybe now they would have a better understanding of what they put her through for nearly four years. Not with the lack of respect; they gave her that, with a few hiccups due to a lack of cultural awareness. But often their lack of self-control in their playfulness would leave her mentally exhausted and with a garage that was in dire need of repairs. Now they were dealing with a teenager who she obviously could tell was acting like a smartass to cover up her pain and insecurity, and allowed her curiosity to get the better of her. Life could be so ironic sometimes.

"Manners, Little Lady," Modo reminded Danny, pointing a finger at her face.

Danny crossed her arms across her chest, a sour look on her face. No matter what, a teenager was a teenager.

"Okay, are we gonna just ignore the elephant in the room?" Vinnie asked. "We told her to stay put and not touch anything, and what does she do? The exact opposite!"

"Pot, meet Kettle," Charley snarked. "You seem to have a habit of doing that a lot too I've noticed, Vinnie." Charley paused. "Actually all three of you do, but you're the biggest offender."

"That's not the point Charley-girl." Vinnie looked at Charley with a serious look on his half-metal face. "If she disobeyed us-WHILE we were nearby-this means she'll do worse if we leave her alone!"

"I just wanted a closer look," Danny mumbled, looking away with her arms across her chest. "S'not like I was gonna pull them apart or try to steal one of them." Danny then looked back at them, her brown eyes glistening with tears she was fighting to contain. "And for the record, you told me not to touch or take anything. You didn't say I couldn't get a closer look. So I didn't disobey you! You're just changing the orders because you forgot to tell me something specific and you're pissed. So quit making me your damn scapegoat!"

"Easy, Little Lady." Modo squeezed Danny by both of her shoulders to prevent a potential emotional meltdown. "No one is making you their scapegoat, punching bag, or blaming on you for anything. But this is a serious issue. Normally if anyone else touched our bikes we would at best scare them away, or at worst…well…I think you can see where this is going. There was a time when Limburger stole Lil' Hoss while I was weak from some blue toxic gunk that got poured on me a few years ago and…let's just say be glad you weren't there to see." Modo paused. "Not a good memory."

"I hate to say it Modo but Vinnie's right," Throttle cut in. "This is concerning."

"I'm standing right here you know! Don't talk about me like I'm not here and that I'm some kind of psycho!"

"Danielle." Modo gave Danny a firm look with the firm tone to match when he called Danny by her formal name. When she stopped, Modo looked back at everyone. "She's still on edge from last night Bros. And we don't need to go into what she's been through before getting caught up in all this." He put a hand on Danny's shoulder. "I already promised I'd be here in case Limburger comes back for her. I'll make sure we don't have any moments like these. You got my word as a biker and a soldier."

Charley blinked as she quickly looked at Danny while Modo was defending the teenager. Was it her imagination, or was Danny blushing? She wasn't able to get a good look as Danny had her head facing the other direction, but Charley was sure she saw a faint pink tint in her cheeks. Maybe she was just embarrassed? It would be the most common explanation, but Charley couldn't help but feel there was more than that. If she was embarrassed, wouldn't the blush have appeared sooner? Danny's flush appeared on her cheeks when Modo had her close by and was defending her, and not sooner. Then again, Charley couldn't be sure with so much going on at once.

"Don't make up excu-" Vinnie's muzzle was covered by Charley's hand. "Mmmph?"

"Vinnie, remember what we talked about yesterday about treating me like a damsel in distress?" Charley looked at the Bros. "I'll be alright. Modo will be here to keep an eye on Danny. And I've handled worse than some mouthy teenager."

"You sure about this Charley-girl?" Throttle asked.

"Yes Throttle I'm sure." Charley knew the Bros meant well, but she could handle herself. She was getting tired of them acting like she was made of glass.  _After everything I survived and did while with them these past three years it should've been enough to let them know I'm no wallflower or some fragile piece of china._

"Alright," Throttle agreed, albeit reluctantly. "Vincent and I will stake out Limburger tower and find out what's going on."

"Right." Vinnie turned to look back at Charley. "Promise you'll let us know the moment she steps out of line."

"Vinnie, I'll be fine. Just make sure you come back in one piece."

"Right. Keep the explosions to a minimum." Vinnie winked at Charley, and then turned to look at Danny. "I'm watching you like a hawk, kid."  
"How can you watch me like a hawk? You're a mouse." Danny paused. "And how can you watch me if you're going on a stake out? Last I check you got two eyes not a hundred, and they can't detach from your skull."

"Danny. Mouth." Modo tugged on Danny's ponytail again.

"Why you-" Vinnie began before Throttle cut in.

"Vincent. Stakeout." Throttle grabbed Vinnie by one of his bandoleers and pulled him to the bikes.

"What about break-"

"We'll grab some dogs on the way there."

"Yeah…not an expert, but I don't think hot dogs are customary stakeout grub," Danny snarked.

"No one asked for your opinion, Squirt!" Vinnie shouted back at Danny.

"That's what happens when you don't read comics! You miss out on the obvious!"

"Danny!" Modo tugged Danny's ponytail again.

_I have this feeling this kid is gonna be bald by the end of the day._ Charley thought as Throttle dragged Vinnie away before the two could get into another verbal altercation.

So much for a lazy and enjoyable Sunday morning.

Karbunkle looked at the powdery white substance between his thumb and index finger, examining the contents. Even with all of the concoctions and inventions he created, it never ceased to amaze him that something so small could cause so more physical and psychological damage than anything he has ever been personally responsible for. He could not help but feel jealous. Him, a self-described technical and biological genius, jealous that a nonliving object was capable of doing so much more harm than anything he ever did just by existing. He also couldn't help but feel some respect. It was amazing that something so simple and small could do so much damage just by existing.

But like with anything that existed, Karbunkle felt the effects could be amplified by the hand of science. Especially anything that had the potency to already alter one's mental frame or health with one dose. After all, with enough modifications, one's poison could be another's antidote, or in this case, the key to victory. He grabbed a vial filled with blue liquid and sprinkled some of the methamphetamine he was brought earlier. He watched as the blue liquid began to foam as it made contact with the white power, some of the contents spilling out over his gloved hand and forearm. Karbunkle brought the concoction to his eye level for a better view. He could not help the swell of pride filling up inside him: he held what could be the answer for victory after over three years of defeat after defeat by the Biker Mice.

Karbunkle watched the foam eventually cease from vial and settling down, leaving Karbunkle with three quarters of a full vial. Just enough to run a test to find out its potency.

"Now all that is needed is to test its potency before its mass production and delivery to Plutark." Karbunkle considered Fred as usual. Fred loved to be Karbunkle's personal guinea pig, as anything Karbunkle did had the potential for pain. But he needed a test subject who's DNA was pure in order to better assess the effects on one's body chemistry. Fred was the exact opposite. "Now where can I get a good test subject with uncompromised DNA?"

Karbunkle looked around for a prime test subject. His gaze fell upon one of the goon guards by the doorway holding. He wasn't particularly large or intimidating, at least not by Plutarkian standards. But he would still be perfect for the experiment. Karbunkle smirked.

"You there. Come here. I have a little proposition for you."

The guard blinked, looking back and forth until he pointed at himself. Karbunkle nodded and gestured him forward. The guard complied and stepped forward, albeit warily.

"Don't be shy. You have no reason to be afraid of me," Karbunkle reassured.  _Well, of me directly anyway._  "You are always suffering the wrath of those annoying Biker Mice, correct? Yes…I know you are." Karbunkle did not give the guard the opportunity to answer. "Always suffering from the wrath of their missiles, punch, tails, and whatever they have in their arsenal."

"Yeah…pisses me off to no end," the guard agreed. "Always having to dodge grenades, nursing black eyes and broken noses and arms."

"It is not just merely your body that gets bruised when they succeed in their endeavors I am sure," Karbunkle continued. "But your pride and ego. Yes…a bunch of rodents standing on hind legs making fools of such men as you on a weekly basis." Karbunkle smirked. "What would you say if I told you I hold the key to making you a power to be feared by your enemies?"

"I say you have my undivided attention." The guard looked at the blue concoction Karbunkle made. "What is it that you got anyway? Fuel for a new weapon? A special kind of virus that attacks a rodent's insides?"

"Not quite…but very close." While Karbunkle was talking, he moved his other hand in his lab coat to pull out a spare syringe he kept with him, making sure the guard would not see his actions. "It could be the very key to our success on this planet. All I need to do…is to test its effectiveness."

With that, Karbunkle suddenly grabbed the goon guard's arm and jammed the needle in the man's arm. Before the guard realized what was going on and try to get away, Karbunkle introuced the blue substance into the guard's bloodstream. The guard screamed in pain as he pulled his arm away from the sadistic scientist's grip as if it would stop whatever had happened. But it was too late, and the poor guard's fate was decided for the sake of science…and, Karbunkle could not deny, for his own pleasure and curiosity as well. The guard watched in horror as the serum started taking effect: the veins on the guard's left forearm began to pop out, a rich blue color. The popping of the veins continued up through the guard's left bicep and tricep muscles, and then spread to his neck. The blue serum made its way to the other side of the guard's body and up through the neck until the veins on all exposed body parts were popping out and visible. But that was not all that happened. The enlargement of the veins spread up to the guard's brain. The sensation was so overwhelming that the guard fell to his knees, screaming in pain. He clutched his head as if to stop the pain and whatever Karbunkle injected into him from spreading. It was a futile attempt. The bulging veins reached the guard's eyes and he began to foam at the mouth.

Karbunkle watched with both morbid fascination and sadistic pleasure at what was transpiring before him. It was not just the guard's skin that began to change, but also his face. The guard's eye color began to change from a dark brown to a light brown, and then his eyes were completely gone. All that remained in his eyes were the white eyeballs. Karbunkle watched as the guard continued to foam at the mouth, a gleeful look plastered on his face as he watched the results of his experiment progress. The scream of pain escaping the possessed guard's mouth eventually turned into a primal roar of rage. The guard wildly started swinging at Karbunkle, which the mad scientist was easily able to maneuver away from. The guard continued to wildly punch the air, lab table, and anything that was in his vicinity.

_Perfect…almost._ Karbunkle pulled out a notebook in his labcoat and made notes of his current results.  _I will need to adjust the dosage to make it easier to control their rage. I will also need to alter the chemical makeup a bit more so they will not lose their ability to think and process information._

Just then, the elevator dinged. Karbunkle looked over and saw Limburger emerge through as the elevator doors opened. No doubt his Plutarkian superior wanted to inquire on the progress of the new project. While some altercations still needed to be made, Karbunkle knew there was no doubt Limburger would be pleased with the progress of his experiments.

"Greetings, my good Doctor." Limburger stepped forward from the elevator. "How are we faring in the progress of our new product for Plutark?"

"Well on our way, Your Cheddary Cheesiness," Karbunkle answered. "As you can see by the current results, we are well on our way in Operation: Redemption."

Limburger looked over to the goon guard that was trashing Karbunkle's lab. He watched as the goon guard grabbed Fred, who was playing with Karbunkle's tools, and threw him against a table covered with glass beakers and gas lamps. Naturally, Fred squealed in delight in the torture and pain, and having the shards of glass embedded in his tentacle arm and legs added more thrills for the creature. Limburger watched the guard smash Karbunkle's materials, then went for the walls and started pounding them relentlessly. The other guards just stared in shock, afraid to stop their fallen friend. Limburger rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger, intrigued.

"I must admit Karbunkle, I like what I see so far." Limburger smiled. "So much rage and power…a perfect tool to use against those testosterone-infused rodents. Though I'm curious…how long do these effects last?"

Just as Limburger asked this question, the guard lunged at Limburger and Karbunkle. The two male figures immediately went in separate directions, narrowly dodging the onslaught of fists from the enraged male. The guard grabbed a table he had earlier smashed into pieces and threw it at Limburger's direction. The Plutarkian shrieked and ducked, the table narrowly missing the top of his head as it landed just inches behind him. The guard let loose a primal roar, which steadily increased in pitch. Limburger watched as the guard stopped roaring, fell to his knees, and then collapsed on his stomach. Limburger slowly stood up from his crouching position and saw that in the back of the guard's head was a needle and syringe. Karbunkle stood behind the guard, panting. It did not take long for Limburger to figure out what had just transpired.

"Very…very impressive, Doctor," Limburger complimented. "Such raw, unadulterated power and aggression. "

"Thank…thank you, your Flatulently Fragrant one," Karbunkle complimented as he got control of his breathing. "Sadly, work still needs to be done in order to control the aggression of those who take my new Rage Amplifier formula. As well as the ability to know who to target-"

"Unfortunately, we do not have that luxury Karbunkle," Limburger interrupted as two random goons dragged the unconscious body away-after tying it up with chain mail as a safety precaution for themselves. "The Biker Mice have sadly caught on to our operation all due to a bottom feeder from gutters of the street. It is only a matter of time before they know what we are doing. We will need to ship what we have to Plutark tonight."

"But how will the High Chairman accept-"

"There are scientists on Plutark who I am sure can complete what you have started, my good Doctor," Limburger finished. "Time is unfortunately not on our side. We cannot afford to take chances with those rodents sniffing around. We will have to make do with what we have."

Karbunkle frowned. He was a scientist who prided himself on perfection in his work, down to the last detail. It was simply unacceptable to allow his work to remain untouched and unperfected, no matter what the circumstances were. Making it worse, to allow other scientists-those who could not even begin to comprehend what his brilliant mind had started-to alter the fruits of his labor…it just added insult to injury! But there was nothing he could do at the moment, so he went along with it.

"Yes, my Feta Fineness…I can see the logic behind your decision."

"Besides, after witnessing the fruits of your labor, I believe everything is ready for the trap I have set in motion for the Biker Mice."

"With all due respect, your Cream Cheesiness…how do we know this trap you have will work? We have set many up in the past, and all of them have failed miserably."

"Because, in the past, my personal goon army has been too afraid to continue forward whenever those rodents would gain an advantage. This time, with the sheer rage of your formula coursing through their veins, they will know neither fear nor pain…only hate and the desire to inflict pain." Limburger smirked. "In addition, this is only part of what will make this plan effective against the Biker Mice."

"What else did you have in mind, your Cream Cheesiness?"

To answer Karbunkle, Limburger merely chuckled coldly.

"Oh, my dear Karbunkle…why spoil the surprise?" Limburger smirked. "You will just have to wait and see."


	11. Chapter 11

Danny sat on the sofa of the Last Chance's living space, her knees pulled up to her chest while watching a movie on the television. After Throttle and Vinnie had left the garage to stake out Limburger's hideout to find out more about whatever new scheme he was up to, Charley offered Danny the downstairs shower. Danny thought about protesting at first, but the idea of a hot shower and washing off the grime she was sure seeped through her clothes and onto her skin last night was an all too tempting offer not to take up. Charley had also offered Danny some fresh clothes after she finished her shower: a long sleeved red and grey baseball shirt and blue jeans without any rips or stains. Danny at first wanted to decline the offer as she had packed her own clothes, but Charley had insisted on the teenager wearing what was provided to her. Something about what she had not being appropriate due to the weather and the many holes and tears. When Danny got a better look at what Charley had offered her, she was hard pressed not to turn down the provisions. And she was glad she didn't: not only did the borrowed jeans and baseball shirt fit her perfectly, but Charley seemed to have similar tastes in clothing and in colors. It also helped that the clothes Charley selected for her smelled like they just came out of a dryer and not from the hamper after a long day of sweating and other activities Danny did not want to think about.

After showering, changing, and enjoying a meal of scrambled eggs with hot dog links (it was the most readily available meat which Charley had in large supply of), Danny was guided to the living room upstairs where she was given free reign of the sofa. Charley brought out a couple pillows and a spare blanket from her room, allowing Danny to use the couch as a temporary bed. Danny dug through her duffle bag, looking for the spare pack of cigarettes she had brought from her apartment last night. After everything that happened yesterday, and that morning, she figured a smoke would be good way to calm down. She realized that there was no cigarette carton in her backpack or duffle bag when she searched for it, causing her to frown. The carton most likely fell out from her bag on the journey over, or she didn't pack a carton like she thought she did. Danny shrugged it off. She was trying to wean herself off from tobacco completely and perhaps this was a sign she needed to go cold turkey. But she still needed something to take the edge off her stress levels and forget about what she went through for a while, and the nicotine withdrawal was not helping her situation. She grabbed a remote control nearby and turned on the television. After flipping through infomercials and TV Evangelists, she got lucky and found a channel that was playing  _Star Wars: A New Hope_. She briefly glanced around and realized she was even luckier: nearby were a couple of pencils and some blank paper. She grabbed the materials and placed the stack of paper on her thighs while the movie was on, multitasking between watching and sketching.

Unfortunately, even sketching and watching fights with laser swords were not enough to keep Danny's mind from wandering. She had realized that she did not think out her plan thoroughly. She was so focused on just finding the Biker Mice and getting out of her environment that she didn't think over what would happen afterwards, and that the hard part wasn't over. It wasn't just the matter of finding out why the main villain wanted her dead and stopping him. No, that would be the finale and everything would be wrapped up in a nice package. There were other details that needed to be ironed out that she didn't think about. Danny didn't want to say anything, but she had overheard the conversation the four were having in the other room. It was kind of hard not to hear them, seeing as the three Martians had loud, booming voices and no sense of volume control, and that the garage walls weren't that thick. She knew staying with them was only a temporary solution, and that she'd most likely be sent elsewhere to live after the mission was complete.

_I can't believe they'd actually consider getting rid of me and that I'm only here on a temporary stay. Shit like this never happened any of the X-Men, Star Wars, or Justice League stories!_

Danny sighed and tossed the pencil onto the coffee table in front of her, then leaned back against the sofa. Too much was going on for her to concentrate on either sketching or watching the movie simultaneously. She tried to focus her attention onthe movie, and the lack of cigarettes to calm her nerves was not helping. She couldn't stomach the thought of being sent away after all she went through just to find them. She had survived almost being gang raped by members of her sister's boyfriend's gang, a missile blast to her bike, being held at gunpoint, being held hostage, being held at gunpoint AGAIN, being abandoned by what little family she had, and also narrowly surviving falling from her apartment window. Surely after everything she survived from that day and before meeting the Biker Mice, they wouldn't allow her to suffer anymore. Why would they consider after all this letting her go when she hasn't even been with them for a full day? These issues were definitely not covered in her comic books.

 _This is so not what I was expecting._ Danny sighed.  _After everything I've been through for the past almost fifteen years of my life, especially after the last twenty-four hours, shouldn't that be more than enough for me to have my happy ending?_ Danny placed her sketches on the coffee table by her discarded pencil.  _Maybe if I knew more about what that expired fish bait was up to, I could sabotage whatever he's up to. Prove to those mice tha-_

"How's the movie, Little Lady?"

Danny almost jumped out of her seat when she heard that question being asked of her. She turned her head to her left and saw Modo standing by the entrance way. He held up his hands in defense when she jumped up.

"It's only me, Danny. Sorry for scaring you. Guess you were really into that movie. Thought maybe you'd like some company?"

"Oh. S-sure. Lots of room on the sofa."  _Jeez, Danny. You need to stop being so damn jumpy._

He smiled at her and made his way to the sofa and sat next to her. When she felt the weight of his body on the sofa, she one of the cushions she sat on rise up. Was he standing at the doorway the whole time and she just didn't notice until he spoke? Did he hear what she was thinking, or sense her fears for that moment? She didn't say her thoughts out loud, but she felt as though the Mice, especially Modo, knew what she was thinking before she even though it herself. Were they mind readers, or was she just overthinking things?

More to the point, the sudden jolt that went through her body caught her off guard. She felt it before whenever someone was about to hurt her. But unlike with Keith, her grandparents, or others, the jolt wasn't followed by the instinct to either run away or put up a fight. She didn't say anything when it happened, but when Modo placed his hand on her shoulder earlier and came to her defense after the motorcycle incident she felt that same jolt go through her body, followed by a warm sensation. She knew that she was safe as long as she was with Modo, but it still didn't explain the surprise jolts were followed by the strange warm sensation, or why she was feeling jolts at all.

 _Okay body, what the hell gives? First you make me jumpy and then you go all warm on me. What's going on?_ Danny paused for a moment.  _It was shock. Yeah…that was it. He caught me off guard. That's all it was._

"You alright, Danny?"

"Hmm?" Danny turned to look at Modo.

"You didn't answer me when I asked you about the movie and you were pretty quiet. Something wrong?" Modo paused. "Wait, you don't need to explain. I think I know what it is."

"You…you do?" Danny blinked.

"You're worried about everything that's been happening and if we'll be able to stop Limburger, and that Throttle and Vinnie are alright." Modo reached over with his flesh arm and gave Danny's other shoulder a gentle squeeze. "My Bros know what they're doing. As for Limburger, we've defeated that overinflated piece of bait before. You're in good hands."

"Oh. Yeah…yeah that's it. And…I guess I'm still trying to believe that all of this is happening, and this isn't some crazy dream."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, just yesterday I was living on a dirty carpet floor, telling others where to pick up junk to get all loopy and nuts, and just trying to survive in a crazy neighborhood where everyone spits on you just because you exist. Now I'm here, caught up in an ongoing battle against survival from evil aliens who are trying to suck our planet dry then move on to the next one. And I'm the key to bringing down their empire. It feels like I'm Luke Skywalker from the  _Star Wars_  trilogy…but in a dystopic world like in  _Terminator_."

"I noticed you make a lot of references to comic series and a lot of films set in the 1980s. Why is that?"

"Is it bad that I like these things?" Danny eyed Modo cautiously. She had a sinking feeling at the bottom of her stomach when he asked her that all too familiar question.  _If I got a nickel for any time someone gave me crap about liking "boy" stuff I could buy my own damn house by now._

"No, not at all. You like what you like. Personally, I'm more of a James Bomb kind of guy. I mean, when you've a survivor of mass genocide and have been a soldier for as long as I have, films like  _Star Wars_ make you numb because of how they treat the issue of war and interplanetary invasion. Spaceships flying and shooting at each other, space stations blowing up, duels with glowing swords, the always epic battles of good versus evil…now I like stories like these too, but the creators and audiences can never see beyond the surface. People like Lucas treat the whole rebelling against an evil occupier from another planet like it's all some game. What they don't realize is that there's so much more to it than just shooting up bad guys and blowing up his castle or command station. The aftermath of it all is even worse than the battle itself. The loss of friends you've grown up with, rebuilding your life from the ground up…and after everything you've seen and survived, you're never completely the same again." Modo paused. "Wait, where was I going with this?"

"You were asking me why I like these over glossy science fiction films of spaceships blowing up giant space stations and fight scenes with swords that glow in the dark," Danny answered in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "I mean, who doesn't love a good action film about a hero from the middle of the nowhere believing he was never meant for anything more than to do someone else's grunt work, only to find out he was destined for greater things? To top it off, traveling to different worlds, cruising through space…" Danny felt her voice getting softer as she kept speaking to hide the fact her voice was breaking, and fight the tears that were forming in her eyes. "To have the ability to stop those who use their power to hurt people instead of protecting them…to find out that, after being kicked and exploited over and over, you belong somewhere..." Danny paused, then vigorously wiped her eyes on her shirt sleeve. She was not going to let anyone see her cry no matter what. "Damn…there sure is a lot of dust in here, isn't there? I think it's affecting my eyes."

"Sorry about that. The air vents here are pretty old, but Charley-ma'am hasn't had the time to fix them." Modo gave Danny's shoulder another squeeze. "It's okay if you like this stuff. No one's gonna think any less of you for it, especially me. If you like it, then that's all that matters."

"R-really?" Danny eyed him. "You don't think it's weird that I like stuff like sci fi comics and other stuff like it, even though I'm a girl?"

"…why should your being a girl matter?" Modo asked, confused. "You like what you like. As long as it's not hurting anyone, or letting it run your life, I don't see the harm in them."

Danny blinked, processing what Modo told her. No one had ever told her that it was okay to like the things she did, though it didn't stop her from doing so. Everyone told her the same thing: girls were to be docile, domestic, and be focused on obtaining a man and having as many children as possible and as young as possible. To deviate from that expectation were always with harsh consequences: the loss of a favorite toy, a week without food, being beaten all over with whatever object was available, or forced to sleep in a dark room. But by far the worst, and her offender's most favorite form of punishment, were being made to say over and over that she was sorry to have been born in the first place. Many people, particularly her grandparents, would frequently tell her that she was an abomination that should have been exterminated as soon as she born.

Ironically, it was the same things that brought her so much trouble with her family that were also her saving grace. It was from this genre, which people mocked and ridiculed her for enjoying, that she gained the help she needed to keep her hope and sanity in a society deprived of compassion. So someone telling her that there was no shame in enjoying what she did caught her off guard and put her on the defensive.

"I…can honestly say I never expected anyone to tell me that," Danny said while she looked at him. "I mean, just a few hours ago when I mentioned George Lucas's name you were all rolling your eyes and acting like I'm a nutcase."

"What do you-oh. You mean earlier back at the Scoreboard." Modo paused for a moment. "It was because it felt like when we explained to you what was going on, we were concerned you weren't understanding just how serious the situation was. Believe me, if you were a boy and you were thanking a movie director for being in the center of an intergalactic occupation instead of getting scared and praying you were in a bad dream, we would still react the same way."

"Oh…I guess that did make me sound mental."

"Trust me, Little Lady-it didn't." Modo smiled at Danny. "We get stuck in dangerous situations all the time, and we make jokes about it too. Vinnie's the worst offender of us all. The more likely something is to kill us, the more he looks forward to it."

"He does crazy things all the time, and he says I belong in a looney bin?" Danny scoffed. "The nerve of that guy!"

"Don't take Vinnie too seriously Little Lady," Modo assured. "He shoots off his mouth before he thinks, but he means well in the end."

Danny paused, taking in what Modo told her. It was a speech she was all too familiar with from Raquelle when it came to Keith: he was a good person even when he was hurting everyone around him. Now she was being told that Vinnie was a good person even when he was making those snarky comments. He didn't exactly make a good impression with her, and didn't go out of his way to make her feel welcomed among the group. Hell, he even made the suggestion to drop her off at the circus for good. Then again, he did help save her life on more than one occasion. There were always those types in the hero team as well: the ones who made snarky comments and were jerks on the surface, but their actions demonstrated they were not as self-serving as they acted to be. Maybe that was the type of person Vinnie was. But could she trust that Vinnie was trustworthy after all he said?

_Reality is crazier than comics. Now I'm being talked into giving a chance to a guy who made it very clear I'm not welcomed. Or at least joked that I wasn't welcomed…either way, said things to me I don't like. How can he make such a convincing point without even trying? I think I'm turning into my sister...I do not like that thought at all._

"Hey, can I take a look at those?"

Danny blinked, not sure what Modo meant. She looked at where he was gesturing and saw he was pointing at the sketches she had drawn earlier. In everything that was going on she had completely forgotten about her drawings. She picked them up and handed them to Modo. Danny watched Modo skim through each of the sheets of paper and looked at each drawing on each sheet. He had a serious look on his face while he was skimming through her sketches as if he were trying to assess if they were good or not. Danny never had anyone take an interest in her artwork, or at least not a positive interest. No one-her grandparents, teachers, or Keith-would even give her art a glance before saying she had no talent and that she was wasting her time and other things. It did not stop her from sketching whenever she had the time and resources as art was another one of the few things aside from science fiction that made her feel better.

Even so, she still couldn't help but wonder what Modo would feel about her work. She watched his face, looking for any signs of approval or disapproval. What she saw instead perplexed her: instead of smiling or frowning, his mouth was quivering. All of a sudden, he started laughing. Modo fell back against the sofa, laughing loudly. Danny just stared at him, now annoyed and confused instead of nervous.

"Okay, I obviously missed the joke. Just what is so damn funny?"

"One: Language." Modo suddenly stopped laughing and gave a gentle but firm tug on Danny's ponytail. "Two: I know I'm no art critic, but I'm pretty sure Limburger doesn't look like this."

Modo pointed at one of the sketches Danny had drawn earlier. In one of her sketches was their Plutarkian nemesis, Lawrence Limburger, or at least his face. From the neck down, Limburger's body resembled a giant, bloated worm with wrinkles covering his body instead of an alien fish trying to disguise himself as a human. To complete the image, Limburger had a fedora hat on his head, a lit cigar in the corner of his mouth, and was holding a tommy gun in both of his hands. Danny paused, then laughed.  
"Oh, that." Danny smiled. "Well, Limburger reminds me of a combination Jabba the Hut from  _Star Wars_. Since he pretty much has the body weight of a Hut, and has a mob boss personality like Jabba, I figured it would make sense to combine the two."

"I think that overstuffed anchovy would make a better Hut than a human," Modo laughed. "Okay, I can get why you drew him as a Hut. But why is he wearing a Fedora, and holding one of those old age guns from the Gangster Era? Last I heard, they don't exist in the  _Star Wars_  universe."

"When I first saw Limburger, he kind of struck me as a mob boss kind of guy. Sort of like Al Capone, or Kingpin from the  _Daredevil_  comics. A fedora and tommy gun just seemed to complete the look for him." Danny shrugged. "I have a weird imagination sometimes."

"Identity crisis aside, these are really good."

"You really think so?"

"Definitely." Modo gave Danny back her sketches. "You're a really talented artist, Danny. The details you put in with the shading and the folds in the clothing, the lines in the hair and our fur…I don't think most professionals have this kind of talent. Where'd you learn to draw like this?"

"Nowhere really," Danny answered, shrugging her shoulders again. "I just stared as soon as I learned how to hold a pencil and could move it across something. I basically would sketch whenever I could get ahold of whatever paper and writing utensils I could find."

"So you're self-taught? That's even more amazing." Modo smiled. "If you ever made a comic right now, I know I would buy it."

"Really? You really think I have talent?" Danny brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Definitely, Little Lady." Modo picked up one of the sketches. "I'm no art expert, but I know you got talent. I didn't know you could draw like this…or draw at all."

"Yeah…well, the opportunity to talk about it never came up."  _And no one was interested before, so I didn't think anyone would be interested now._ "Speaking of not knowing things, I realized that I know almost nothing about you. I know you came from another planet, but I didn't bother to learn anything after that. What planet did you come from? Why did you come here? Are there more like you? What happened that got you that cyberarm? And-"

"You should let the person answer the first question before you ask another," Modo suddenly cut in, then laughed. "You remind me of Primer."

"Who's Primer?" Danny asked.

"My niece. She was a lot like you when she was around your age. Feisty, always asking questions, hated being left out of something, and she was always getting in trouble." Modo paused. "Not seeking trouble I mean, but trouble had a habit of following her."

"She sounds like someone I'd love to be friends with." Danny smiled. "What she doing now?"

"She, uhh…" Modo paused, then sighed sadly. "It's…some things are just better left unsaid, Little Lady."

"Oh…"

Dany watched Modo's facial expressions. He looked down at the carpeted ground, his arms rested on his legs. Did she commit a taboo by asking this question? She hoped she didn't do anything to upset him and make him want to get rid of her. Modo slowly looked back at Danny, and smiled.

"Don't be like that, Little Lady. You didn't do anything wrong. Now, you were asking more about where me and my Bros came from before Earth?"

"Right!" Danny nodded vigorously. She turned her whole body towards his and prompted herself onto the sofa, resting on her ankles.

"It's actually a long story. First, my Bros and I come from Mars. Before our homeworld became the red desert planet you've seen in a lot of those old sci-fi movies and comics and books, it looked a lot different. We actually had rivers, all sorts of flowers and plants and fish…very different from what you would see today."

"Wait…Mars?" Danny blinked. "Wow…so close by, and I never realized it." There was a pause. "Wow…I wonder what Joseph Samachson would say if he was alive and found out the truth about life on Mars."

"Who's Joseph Samachson?"

"He's the creator of the J'onn J'onzz, also known as the Martian Manhunter from the  _Martian Manhunter_ comic series. He's tall, green, and he has a lot of superpowers: super strength, shape shifting, telekinesis, telepathy, and he's good at being a detective and figuring things and people out. I think he's one of the reasons whenever people think of life on Mars they think of green people."

"Okay, the stuff you learned about Mars from comics and movies…forget they exist. They stereotype me and my people." Modo cleared his throat. "Anyway, many years ago, the Plutarkians came to Mars and bought property on our planet to ship back to their home planet. And-" Modo paused. "It's actually a long story, and some is hard to put in words…it might be better if I just show you everything."

"Show me? How can you show me?"

"Easy." Modo pointed to his antennae. "These allow us to transfer emotions and memories to others. I can show you what happened on Mars from the Plutarkians better than telling the story."

Danny reached up to Modo as he lowered his head. She ran her fingers along one of his antennae. When her digits touched the red antennae on Modo's head, it felt smooth, as if it was a mix between leather and skin. The color and thickness reminded her of red licorice, and she had to mentally remind herself that his antennae weren't candy and couldn't be eaten. She felt a soft heat eradiating from the antennae, heating her fingers. Danny's fingers trailed up Modo's antennae slowly up to the tip, and traced the slightly swelled nub at the top in a circular fashion, and then back down. She felt a slight vibration from the tip when she did so, and noticed Modo was staring at her, a slight tinge of red on his face. She watched as Modo gently gripped her wrist with his flesh hand and slowly lowered her arm back to her side.

"Please don't do that, Little Lady," Modo asked, the blush gone. "Our antennae are very sensitive, and it's considered a violation of privacy. It's like if I touched one of your breasts without asking you first."

Danny looked away from Modo. Another lecture about curiosity getting the best of her. It was bad enough she was lectured about being curious from Vinnie, but now she was getting a lecture from Modo. When Vinnie lectured her she was quick to go on the defense, and was sure she would have attacked that white-furred loudmouth if Modo didn't stop her. But when Modo lectured her, what she felt instead was guilt and shame...feelings she hadn't felt for her actions in years. Or at least, that she had pretended not to feel. She did not want to tell the other Mice at the Scoreboard when they found out what she did, but she wasn't happy with helping others provide cocaine and other narcotics to people in the city. It went against what she had embraced in her comics and movies: be a hero and do what is right for the greater good. Unfortunately, being related to someone in the drug cartel left no room for her desire to live up to what she was taught by such characters, and she knew she did not have the weapons or powers to take down those so powerful on her own. So she suppressed those feelings for what she had done in the name of survival. Now that she was in an environment where she wasn't expected to do such things, those feelings she had suppressed for so long were making their way through. And she did not like these feelings one bit, but as she had nowhere to run, it was better to avoid looking at the source. It didn't help that Modo, who was making her feel things she rather not feel, cupped her chin and made her look at him straight in his working eye.

"It's okay, Little Lady," Modo assured her and released his hand from her face. "You're not in trouble. Just keep it in mind for the future."

"So…how does it work exactly?" Danny asked, resisting the urge to touch the antennae again. The guilt and shame she was fighting to keep down was gone and her curiosity returned once more.

"It's really easy." Modo's antennae began to glow, a yellow light surrounding them. "When my antennae touch your head, I transfer my memories to you and you see them live out in your head."

"Whoah…just like a Vulcan mind meld!" Danny paused. "Wait, if you can do that, will you be able to read what's in my head? Because there are thoughts and memories I do-"

"Don't worry, Danny," Modo assured. "It doesn't work like that. We can transfer memories, but we can't read thoughts. You won't have to worry about me learning any secrets or things that you don't want us to know about. You can tell us these things when you're ready."

"Will it hurt me?" Danny asked.

"No."

"Will it hurt you?"

"No."

Danny nodded, then closed her eyes and waited for Modo to visually tell her how he and his friends came from Mars to Earth. She felt the tips of his antennae touch her forehead, and suddenly she saw images of a red desert with an even more red sky. What followed was a slow showing of the strip-mining of their world, to various battles his people fought against their invaders, their escape, their coming to Chicago, their meeting with their human friend Charley, and other adventures they had during the time they were in her city. Seeing these images face to face felt so surreal…as if she had a private screening for a movie or a video game. The streaming of images came to an end and when she opened her eyes she saw Modo sitting at his original position, looking at her.

"W-wow…" Danny was able to say after a moment. "That was…I don't know how to describe it."

Actually, she could. It was as if it came right out of a film that was a cross between the  _Star Wars_  trilogy and the  _Mad Max_  trilogy. But Danny had decided to not say that out loud. She figured he heard enough fiction references for a while, and would probably assume that something so sensitive as mass genocide shouldn't be compared to film.

"Yeah…it takes time to get used to these mental transfers."

"So, was the war how you, umm…" Danny gestured to Modo's bionic arm.

"Huh? Oh, you mean my arm." Modo flexed his bionic fingers. "Yeah…during a mission, there was an explosion which knocked me right off my bike. I don't remember losing my arm, but I remember the pain from the explosion and falling unconscious from the explosion. When I woke up, I was on a lab table and I had this in place of my real arm. The Plutarkians had kidnapped a lot of other Resistance members, including me and my Bros. They were planning to brainwash us all and turn us all into thoughtless killing machines. If I hadn't woken up when I did I probably would have become one."

Danny got the feeling that there was more about the arm that Modo was feeling, but he couldn't bring himself to talk about. So she did not press him further about it. She reached out to grab his bionic hand and squeezed it, then looked right at him.

"I think it looks cool on you," Danny said, smiling.

Modo blinked and looked back at Danny, causing her to pause, a sudden tightness gripping her heart. Did what she just tell him offend him? She meant that she didn't think any less of him even with his bionic arm and to make him feel better about what happened to him. Did what she tell him made him feel like she was reducing him to a character from the comics and movies she was enjoying? More and more she was starting to feel like looking for him and his friends was a big mistake…until Modo smiled.

"Thanks, Little Lady." Modo gave Danny a pat on her shoulder. "I know what you were trying to tell me…and it means a lot."

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Danny and Modo turned their attention to the entrance way and saw Charley standing there, smiling. Danny realized she was still holding Modo's bionic hand and quickly released it from her grasp and tucked both of her hands between her knees. She looked back at the television, trying to make it look like she was engrossed in the movie that was playing on the screen.

"Not at all, Charley-ma'am," Modo replied casually. "Danny-girl and I were just having a conversation about  _Star Wars_. She even showed me some drawings she was doing. I think we have a budding artist with us."

"Really?" Charley made her way over to the two. "Is it alright if I see for myself?"

Danny paused for a moment, then slowly gave the sketches she had worked on to Charley. Charley skimmed through them, then stopped at one sketch in particular. Danny waited for Charley's reaction, anticipating if she would like or dislike what was being displayed. Charley snorted, then burst out laughing. She obviously found the one where Limburger was redesigned as a Hutt.

"This…this is probably the most flattering portrait of Limburger I have ever seen in my life. And that's saying a lot!" Charley gradually stopped laughing and smiled. "As for everything else…Modo's right: you got a lot of talent."

"You think so too?" Danny perked up slightly.

"Definitely." Charley paused. "Hey Modo, I need your help with a big order I'm finishing up on."

"Sure thing, Charley-ma'am," Modo replied. "Besides, I need to head back downstairs and resume my watch against Limburger's goon army."

Modo sat up and gently patted Danny on her shoulder before making his way from behind the sofa to where Charley was standing. He stopped and looked back at Danny.

"I'll be downstairs with Charley-ma'am if you need me, Danny-girl. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, definitely," Danny answered. "I have Luke, Leia, and others to keep me company."

"Well, let me know when you've had your fill of helping them and the rest of the resistance take down the emperor and restore freedom to the galaxy." Modo chuckled. "Even resistance fighters need to take a break from it all once in a while."

"Okay. After I help Han and Luke nuke the Death Star and get medals I'll come down and join ya," Danny winked.

"No spoilers!" Modo laughed and followed Charley down to the garage.

Danny couldn't help but laugh from Modo's comment, and watched him follow his female mechanic friend downstairs to the garage. She turned back to the television, trying to make herself get back into the movie. While she wanted to get engrossed in the movie, Danny's mind could not help but wander back to the conversation she heard from the others earlier that morning. With everything that had happened during the conversation, she didn't get the chance to talk to Modo about what she had overheard. Or rather, she didn't have the courage to talk to him about the earlier conversation. She wanted to talk to him about their plans to send her away and see if she could convince him to talk them out of it. After all, Modo was her biggest advocate and the one who had protected her the most since their first fateful meeting. If there was anyone she was sure she could convince to keep her, it was Modo.

 _But how can I convince them to let me stay?_ She thought.  _I know Modo wants me around, but the others aren't convinced I'm a good fit here. I'm no fighter, I never used a gun outside of those plastic ones in arcades, and I know I don't have super strength. I'm pretty street smart and I'm fast on my feet, but. Being an artist and genre savvy_

Danny leaned back onto the sofa to ponder her options. She would have to work fast if she wanted to make sure her place in their lives was cemented before then.

Throttle and Vinnie brought their motorcycles to a halt at the warehouse Danny told them about. Throttle thought about deactivating the visor on his helmet, but decided against it. If there was evidence of cocaine or whatever drug being made or packaged here, then he did not want to have any of it enter his system. He was aware the effects it had on people's systems when it entered through their nostrils, and he knew a Martian's olfactory sensors were stronger than a human's. The rain had started picking up again, so whatever evidence of drugs may had been washed away, or muddled up by the water. Still, if there was any way to figure out whatever Limburger was up to he had to start somewhere. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and activated it.

"Keep your guard and visor up Vincent," Throttle ordered. "If there was drug production here, the last thing we need is for it to enter our system and screw up our insides. This place might also have traps set up to keep others out, and there may be some people here keeping watch."

The two mice men proceeded down the steps of the warehouse, moving slowly as the steps were slippery from the rain and there was no handrail for support. Throttle pressed his spare hand to the wall to brace himself while going down the steps. When he reached the bottom, he looked down at the water at the base, covering his booted feet. He grimaced. Even though his feet were protected from the elements, he did still did not like the idea of rain water-especially dirty rain water-sloshing around his boots.

"Ugh!" Vinnie lifted up one of his feet when he felt the rain water slosh around his boots too. "Okay, seriously-would it have killed anyone to put a drain at the bottom? It's like a kiddie pool down here…if you don't mind kids swimming in rain water mixed in with things you don't wanna talk about out loud."

Throttle ignored Vinnie as he felt the door, hoping it would be unlock. Not surprisingly, it was not. Upon kicking down the door, he broke off the doorknob, leaving a gaping hole where it used to be and leaving the door slightly ajar. Pulling his blaster out of the holster on his right leg, he slowly pushed the door all the way open and entered the room, Vinnie trailing behind him. Upon entering, they realized the interior was pitch black. Pulling out a flashlight, Throttle turned it on and used it to first locate a light switch, but the lights didn't come on even after he had located the switch. Shining his flashlight on the ceiling, he saw that someone had removed all of the light bulbs from the light fixtures, and it didn't look as though there were any windows in the room, either. Further investigation revealed that everything in the room was not only removed, but cleaned up to remove any evidence of what had been occurring in this room. There were still a few stains and some residue, however, indicating that it was a rushed job. Without proper lighting, anyone else entering the room for whatever reason could risk unknowingly exposing themselves to leftover toxins.

"If there was any cocaine production – or whatever drug Limburger is hoarding-going on here, these people are making sure to cover it up," Throttle observed. "That reminds me-don't touch anything in here. If there's any residue there's a chance it can get in through your fur and muck your insides up that way."

"The thought didn't get in my brain until now…but trust me; this is one place even I'm not stupid enough to want to touch," Vinnie replied.  
"We'd better make this search quick. Even with the helmets on deep space mode I don't want us to be here longer than we have to. Ten minutes tops, then we get out of here."

Throttle and Vinnie searched around the darkened room, being careful not to touch the walls or anything that was out in the open. While there was nothing out in the open, Throttle did not want to take any chances. Personal experience had taught him that nothing was ever what it seemed, and that even the most benine of appearances could be a mask for something more sinister than anything anyone could imagine, including a vacant room. He scanned the entire room with his flashlight, hoping to find anything that would tip him off: drug powder, dried blood, an old cup, ANYTHING to give him a clue as to what's going on or where to go next. SO far, nothing of significance came to his attention.

"Hey Throttle. What if we can't find any clues to what Limburger's up to here?" Vinnie asked as he looked over another room.

"Then we'll try for Limburger tower next. That overgrown anchovy is shipping the cocaine to Plutark, so an order that big would have to be stored somewhere police and regular citizens wouldn't know about. But I want to have all known bases covered just in case."

"Well the sooner we get this done with the sooner we can get the hell out of here," Vinnie said. "I don't like leaving Charley-girl alone with that kid."

"That's why Modo stayed behind: to keep Danny from causing trouble. And he'll radio us if anything comes up," Throttle answered, still examining the building. "Besides, we talked about this Vincent: options were limited. I didn't like that Charley-girl elected to let her stay with her either, but it wasn't like we had other options to fall back on."

"Doesn't mean I have to like what was decided," Vinnie grumbled. "I can live with her being a geek and making references to comics and those cheesy sci-fi movies, but not an annoying smartass who doesn't show the least bit of respect."

"Story of my life," Throttle muttered under his breath. He then turned to look back at Vinnie. "I get how you feel Vinnie; sometimes she makes me want to rip out my own hair. But until otherwise, she's our responsibility."

"Maybe…but I still don't like the idea of leaving her with Charley, even if Modo's there to protect them both. What if us taking that Danny kid to Charley was part of Limburger's plan to make it easier to hunt her down? Even with Modo guarding the two, there's still a chance for Charley to get hurt or killed, and the pest too. Or if not the goons, someone from that kid's drug cartel gang. If someone did something that goes against the gang, they come after you. Once you're in one, you're in it until death. I've seen enough movies to know how it ends." Vinnie paused, and turned to look back at Throttle. "And is it just me, or does Modo seem really attached to Danny? I mean, we all know he's got a soft spot for kids, but his attachment with Danny is…more. Not like, Miranda's law more, but…something else."

"Not the time and place to bring up a touchy subject, Vincent. And like I said earlier: limited options," Throttle repeated. "Besides, we won't be here much longer." Throttle paused and looked back at Vinnie. "Just keep looking for clues."

"I don't know what we're gonna find in a place like thi-" Vinnie stopped when there was a creaking noise, indicating a loose door. "Throttle! I think I found something!"

Throttle rushed from where he was standing earlier and stood by Vinnie's side. Vinnie was at the foot of what looked like an old storage room, most likely where the mixing ingredients and cleaning supplies were kept when not in use. When Throttle stood where Vinnie was, he found two empty large metal barrels inside the storage space, and nothing else. He looked inside the barrels and found that they were empty, but they had black residue inside.  
"Oil barrels? Here?" Throttle blinked.  
"Storage?"

"Probably. Or they could have made the cocaine in here. It looks like it's been used a lot, and it looks a bit corroded."

"But there's only two of them. If this order is for Plutark, you'd need a hell of a lot more than just two measly barrels to make and shipt it."

"Danny told us that the cartel would switch labs every so often to keep the cops off their trail and make it easier to make and distribute cocaine, right? Obviously they would have more than two barrels to make to sell their product individually, let alone fill a huge order. I'm guessing this is just one of the shifting labs, and these two barrels got left behind in the hurry to relocate."

Throttle bent down on his knees to get a better glimpse at the barrels. The exterior of both were a green color, eroded from years of use leaving rust along the upper and lower parts of the barrels. Obviously these barrels have seen better days, but they were still intact. Other than the color or rust, there was nothing to indicate where it came from. As Throttle was about to remove the flashlight from the barrel, something caught his eye.

"Vinnie, turn the flashlight where I'm pointing it. I think I found something."

Throttle waited for Vinnie to flash the light where he was, then turned his flashlight around. Throttle scraped the barrel with the butt end of the flashlight. The rust started chipping off the barrel, giving him a better look at the mark on the barrel. When he scraped off enough of the rust, a logo that was on the barrel's center became more visible. Throttle squinted his eyes behind his glasses when he was able to chip off enough to read the label: an oval shape, red on the top and blue on the bottom, the logo "STANDARD" on the center and a lit torch through the middle.

"What you find Throttle?"  
"This logo. This was the old age logo for Amoco oil." Throttle looked back at Vinnie. "It used to be called Standard Oil, and it was the company that distributed gasoline throughout the Midwest in the early Twentieth century. Before everything was self-serviced, anyone who owned a car or motorcycle would buy their fuel in buckets. This must be one of the barrels the company used to deliver the gasoline before everything was do it yourself. Guess one of the gang members worked for the company in the old age and held on to the barrels, or some members rummaged and found some at one of the old abandoned fuel stations."

"So the ones contributing the gas to make the junk are working for this company?"

"Not really. These are old, so it's unlikely Amoco is taking part. At least now we have an idea of how they're making the stuff."

"That's great and all, Throttle…but it's not getting us any closer to finding out what Limburger wants with all that cocaine and where it's being delivered to. That over bloated fish bait wouldn't think about having it delivered to his building; it'd be too obvious."

"That bothers me to-" Throttle stopped in midsentence. "Did you hear that Vinnie? Someone's coming. Might be one of the gangbangers who make the stuff."

"Good. Maybe we'll get some answers from one of them." Vinnie started cracking his knuckles.  
"No, Vincent."

"But-"

"We don't know for sure if it's one of them. We need to lay low and find out first. If we're discovered we'll fight then, but only if we have to. We may be able to overhear something valuable."

Throttle grabbed Vinnie by his bandoleers and dragged him inside one of the other rooms, most likely storage room where supplies were kept, and hid himself and Vinnie there. Almost as soon as he did so, Throttle heard footsteps descending down the stairs. He clenched his left hand into a fist and placed his right hand by his holster, preparing for a fight if he needed to. The footsteps grew louder, followed by distinctly male voices. He decided to wait and let them speak, hoping to find some valuable information.

"Hey, someone got here; the door was kicked open!" One of them said. "You think cops were here?"

"Doubt it; there's no yellow tape. Probably some dumbass hobo looking for a dry spot from the rain."

"Yeah, someone was here alright. One of the old barrels was moved and it's lying out."  
"Maybe that hobo was looking for some rags to wash or hoping there would be some old pills or drugs lying around; who knows what goes on their heads. Anyway, let's just grab the two barrels and get the hell out of here."

"Why do we need these damn barrels anyway? The coke's already made and ready to ship; do we need to make more already?"

"Boss says there's too much of the product to ship little by little without tipping off cops. We're gonna use the barrels to hold it all. C'mon-the sooner we get to the warehouse where it all is, the sooner we can get our money. Then after that we gotta find Spelling's little runner. Joe wants to make her pay personally for bruising his balls before the boss deals with her personally."

"But wouldn't she have gone with Spelling and his hoe when we were ratted out by one of the other runners?"

"Doubt it; he was tipped off while she was still in holding so she's out in the city somewhere. The little  _puta_ can't hide forever."

"How the boss plan to off her?"

"No idea, but I know he wants her to suffer before he has her bite it. Before he puts her down, maybe he'll let us all take a turn or two with her. I mean, it'll be our last chance to tap dat ass! She may not have those big boobs like that bimbo sis of hers, but I hear Spelling was holding her out until she was eighteen and legal. Something about doing it with a virgin just gets me goin'."

"I hear she's not even fifteen either," the other added in. "That'll make the cherry pluckin' all the sweeter. Which body part of hers do you think'll be better: the  _boca_ , the  _choca,_ or the  _culo_?"

Throttle tightened his left hand harder, his fist shaking. Even though he didn't understand any Spanish, he was able to understand the gesture of what the two were talking about. He briefly glanced at Vinnie, who also looked like he wanted to beat those two punks to a bloody pulp. If it was hard for Throttle to keep himself in check, he was sure it was even harder for Vinnie, who had less patience and little to no impulse control. After all, it was terrible enough what those thugs were talking about with the cocaine, but making plans to rape and murder a teenager? He just hoped he could hold it together long enough to put an end to whatever Limburger was up to; then he and his Bros could take personal satisfaction in preventing the two from using their body parts for they were bragging about doing.

"Personally I'm more of a  _culo_  kind of man, but I like to take a sample of all three from the little  _puta_. C'mon; we're wasting time."

"Still don't get why that much coke is needed for this one guy. Far be it from me to question business, but what does one man insist on doing with over 200,000 pounds of cocaine? He can't plan to use it all for himself."

"Who knows, but when over two million is offered as a down payment, you don't question why someone wants a shit down of deadly waste, 'Ese. You'd think you'd learn that by now."

Throttle listened as the two men left the room while dragging the barrels, listening for their foot prints and metal banging against the steps as they went up the stairs and left, closing the door after themselves. After making sure the coast was clear, he and Vinnie left their hiding spot and looked back at the now closed door.

"Drug dealers, kiddie rapists, and murderers. Limburger knows how to pick 'em," Vinnie spoke under his breath. "Okay, remind me WHY we didn't kick the crap out of them right then and there! We could've made them squeal where their hideout was, then toss them on the porch of a police station while on the way there."

"There's no guarantee beating them up would've made them give up the location Vincent," Throttle answered. It was tempting, but he had to maintain control and focus on the primary objective first. "They probably would've blurted out the first place they could think of to get us to stop. Even if they did give us an honest answer, their boss-whoever he is-would've probably found out that two of his gangbangers were missing and get suspicious, which would've tipped off Limburger. Then our whole stakeout would've been a total bust. Besides, now that we found two of them we can follow them to find out what Limburger is doing with all that coke."

"And then the party begins, right?" Vinnie pulled out his gun, smiling.

"Definitely Vincent. Definitely."

Greasepit laid flat on his stomach on a building roof, looking out through a pair of binoculars at the Last Chance. He was not happy with his situation. He was stuck outside, lying flat on a roof, and it was both raining and cold. Even the grease that would ooze from his body was not keeping him warm. The rain kept washing off the only thing that would protect his body from natural elements, and the grease that would reform never got the chance to warm up from his natural body heat to protect him from the chill of the Chicago winds. Being forced out to the Last Chance for a recon mission in the rain and cold was bad enough, but if it was just that he could swallow it. No, it was more than that. On top of dealing with the weather, he had to put up with the muttering and complaining of the goons he brought with him, who were faring no better from the rain and wind. Many of them were hugging themselves trying to stay warm, or holding up their muscle vests to try to keep the rain from soaking them further.

"Why the boss makin' us wait up here this early in the morning, and in this damn cold?" one goon complained while hugging himself. "The wind is biting my skin and it's raining icicles out here!"

"You're thinking of hail," another goon shot back. "We got no hail; just regular old rain."

"Call it whatever you want, it's still COLD!" the goon complained. "Couldn't the boss let us change into something warmer for this stake out? Or at least let us get some coffee and donuts for the job? We've been up all night without any breaks at all."

"Shut up youse all!" Greasepit turned back to yell at them. "Dis job is hard enough without youse all complainin'!"

"At least tell us WHY we're here Greasepit!" another goon complained. "It better be worth freezing our bits 'n pieces off."

"The boss wants the kid, remembers?" Greasepit answered. "We need to find a way to get her from dem meeses, 'n bring her where da Boss wants her. After wese get da Mice ta follow us, that's when de fun begins."

It wasn't just orders that were making Greasepit put up with his current circumstances though. Even though he was loyal to Limburger, he had a personal motivation to complement his assignment: pride. One little teenager – who didn't even come up to his chest- put him through so much pain and humiliation in one day. It was bad enough when the Biker Mice did these things to him; he could bounce back from being beaten up and humiliated by three mice with physiques near his own size. Even their female companion he could bounce back from. But to be taken down by someone so much smaller than him, who took him out by simply spitting in his eye and then dodging his blows? Humiliating. He would've been able to kill the girl had she not been rescued by the Biker Mice in the nick of time. She completely humiliated him in just one day, and to make matters worse she was under the protection of those mice. They may have been able to protect her the first two times, but Greasepit would make sure that they wouldn't be able to save her a third time. Once his mission was complete and the Biker Mice were permanently out of the picture, he would make sure she would be another casualty after breaking a few bones and knocking out a few teeth. There were three things he knew he was good at: scaring people, hurting people, and killing people. He was going to relish doing the last two of the three on her.

Greasepit looked through his binoculars again back at the Last Chance. He focused his view on the front window, and saw the large grey one called Modo looking through. He wasn't good at remembering names, but he was able to remember the names of the three Martian nemeses. So far it looked as though Modo didn't notice he was there. Greasepit waited a few moments to see what else he would do, and who else would come by. Through the window he saw the black haired teenager come up behind the larger mouse. Modo turned around to her, and it looked like they were talking about something. Greasepit didn't think anything of it; they could've been talking about the weather for all he knew and care. But he also noticed something: Modo was the only one of the three mice at the window. He saw no signs of the ones called Throttle or Vinnie.

"So da big mousie is protectin' da little brat all bys himselves, eh?"Greasepit snickered. "Dis'll make dings so much easiers."

Greasepit watched Modo walk away from the window with the young girl in tow. Now was the perfect moment. Greasepit looked back at his small army, who were still huddling from the chill of the rain and wind

"Now everyone remembers da plan? We nabs the kid 'n takes her wid us back to da place Mister Limburger tolds us to go. I only saw one of dems mice, so this'll make it easier."

"Wait, if it's just one of them why don't we just kill him AND little shit here and now?" one of the goons asked. "It'll be way easier."  
"Dose aren't Mister Limboigers orders!" Greasepit yelled. "He needs da brat alives right now, and he wants all three meese live for da 'surprise' he has for them, and sees dem get torn apart himselfs. He'll be really mads if one of dem is deads and he ain't dere to sees."

Greasepit reached into his pocket and pulled out a portable radio, covered in grease. While waiting for the frequency to adjust, he looked down below. Right underneath him, another goon, almost his size, was standing next to a large metal crate while holding a Tommy Gun. Greasepit turned it on and pressed it to his right ear.

"Greasepit to Bammers. Is da 'invitation' ready?"

"Ready, Greasepit. The invitation sounds like it's just wakin' up."

"Den it's time to deliver the invitation," Greasepit chuckled. "Let him out."

Greasepit watched the goon called Bammers unlock the metal box, then immediately retreat behind the metal box and climb up the ladder as fast he could. And not a moment too soon; the front of the metal crate suddenly flew forward and skidded down the alley into the street. Moments later, a large male stepped out, with no clothes aside from ripped pants and shreds of what used to be a muscle shirt, step out. His entire body was covered with blue veins that looked as though they were about to pop out of his skin at any moment. The blue veined man-if he could be called that-arched its head back and let loose a loud, animal like roar and marched forward, grabbed its torn metal door and flung it forward. After watching the door crash into a large dumpster, the creature continued forward, like a feral beast on the hunt for something-or someone.

Greasepit watched from the safety above as the rage with his fellow goons as the creature made its way towards the Last Chance Garage, and snickered.  
"Gets ready everyones." Greasepit reached behind him and pulled out his own laser rifle. "It's playtimes."


End file.
